


Some Other Metal

by meet_the_girl_who_can



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Character Death, Dad! Joe, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Found Family, Happy Ending, Instant Attraction, Joe finds it adorable and very hot, Joe has a daughter, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova is a Little Shit, No Immortality, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Paramedic! Nicky, Professor! Joe, Requited Love, Soft Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Somewhere between a slow burn and a fast burn, a mid burn, its only referenced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_girl_who_can/pseuds/meet_the_girl_who_can
Summary: Standing there, head tilted inquisitively towards him with a gentle smile is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s as tall as Joe himself with longish dark hair and stunning eyes the colour of the Italian Rivera. It looks like St. John’s Ambulance service hired a model for their uniform.“Mr. Al-Kaysani?”“Baba?”Professor Yusuf Al-Kaysani meets a beautiful paramedic and finds more than he could have dreamed.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 328
Kudos: 914





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Marwan in Hartenstraat (2014) being an adorable single father looking for love and couldn't stop thinking about Dad! Joe meeting Nicky and well, here we are. A couple of things, if anyone is interested Joe's daughter is based on the character Saar from Hartenstraat who was played by Nadia Koetje, so she's the fancast if you like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also a mild injury happens to a child in this chapter, but we don't see it happen - it's mainly parental concern caused by lack of communication. Set in England because I know that university system best

“Ba-ba?”

“Za-ra?” Joe sang back, imitating his daughter’s curious tone without looking up from the paper he was marking. He’d finish this one and then it would be time for Zara to go to bed.

“Would you ever get married?”

 _That_ made him look up. He turned to where she was sitting to find she was already watching him intently, little hazel eyes bright, the tv forgotten. It had been the two of them since she was a year old and over the seven years that had passed since then, he didn’t think she’d ever asked him that.

He and her mother hadn’t been married, but Zara knew that, knew that Joe was gay. He’d not worked out how he was going to explain that he’d been Marina’s sperm donor yet, but they had a few years to work on that one.

 _Where on earth has this come from?_ He wants to ask, _why are you asking now?_

He wonders if Booker or Quynh had put their niece up to this, they’ve been dropping hints about him getting back in the game. He knows it’s because they’re worried that he’s lonely and he is sometimes, it’s been a while since he woke up next to someone, felt safe and cherished in the circle of someone’s arms, the warmth in his chest from their smile alone. But he’s just not looking.

No, that’s not right. He looks and sometimes he finds, and maybe it’s pessimistic, and maybe it's unfair but he doesn’t see anyone that stops him in his tracks and makes his heart skip a beat and it’s poetic and problematic but it’s true. He wants more. He wants what Andy and Quynh have. Solid and sure and forever.

He thinks about asking Zara if Uncle Book’s being nosy, but he doesn’t, just shrugs off the strangeness of timing and smiles softly at her sweet face. “When I meet the most beautiful man in the world, habibti. When I meet someone who is good and kind and loves us like Mama did” His eyes flicker right, to one of the photos of Marina on the mantelpiece, and when he looks back again, it’s to see Zara nod seriously, drinking in his answer. He’d never really thought about what it would be like to be a father and after he’d agreed to help Marina, she’d left it up to him whether he wanted to co-parent or just be her friend. And then, when the test came back positive, he remembers the way he’d gripped Andy’s hand and Booker had clapped him on the back and welcomed him to the club.

“Okay. Just, we did about Greek myths in school today and Ms. Waite mentioned soulmates and I wondered if you’d found yours”

Ah, so that’s why. By Allah, he misses that untouchable optimism. _Oh, Zara. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth_. 

“No, my love, not yet I haven’t. And if I did, we wouldn’t necessarily have to get married to be happy together. Besides,” Joe puts aside his pen and the paper he’d been working through. He still had two days before he had to give the assignments back to his students, so he could finish up now without guilt, and he pulls Zara into his lap, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head amongst the light brown curls. “I have you to keep up with as it is, little hurricane” and he tickles her.

****

He’s in the middle of a lecture when the side door swings open to reveal Nile. One look at her face, eyes wide and worried has him shout “Class dismissed, I’ll upload the slides tomorrow. No seminar work this week” and he’s flying after her.

“It’s Zara,” Nile says without ceremony once the door’s closed and he doesn’t hear anything else after that.

Thy drive to the school – the school, not the hospital, thank heavens – and Joe can only barely glean the information from what Nile had said. Football match. Injury. Ambulance.

Ambulance.

“She’s conscious, at least,” Nile says but she looks as sick as Joe feels. They hadn’t elaborated more than that. His foot presses down on the accelerator.

They hit the school car park twenty minutes later and Joe flings himself from the car (leaving Nile to put on the parking brake and lock up) sprinting towards where the playing fields lie. The ugly but efficiently obvious green, white and yellow check of the ambulance is parked on the field, back doors flung open. The kids are still half-heartedly trying to play, Coach Becker trying to keep them involved but they all keep glancing at the ambulance.

“ZARA” Joe yells, not even aware he’s doing it, just intent on barrelling towards the vehicle. He only stops when he reaches the doors, catching himself on one and pulling to a stop and _there –_

There’s his precious little hurricane, hands on her knees, staring out at the fields from where she’s sitting on the inner step. A beautiful smile breaks across her face when she sees him.

“Baba!”

Joe falls to his knees in front of her, cupping her face in his hands and scanning her little frame for injuries. She seems fine but - “Habibti, habibti are you alright? What happened?”

“Mr. Al-Kaysani? Zara’s going to be just fine. She’s got a bit of a nasty sprain from the tackle but nothing more serious than that” a soft, accented voice reassures him from somewhere besides his shoulder.

Joe just nods, eyes fixed on Zara, head buzzing as panic melts into relief. He presses a kiss to the side of Zara’s head and feels like he might faint. She’s okay, she’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s not serious. He’s – fuck, she’s fine. She’s alright. He laughs, once, wetly.

“I’m fine, Baba, honest! I didn’t even cry!” she grins, triumphant.

“You could’ve cried if you needed to Zara and that wouldn’t have made you any less brave,” says the voice before Joe can, and he turns round to smile at the paramedic and his thanks dies on his lips. For the second time in twenty minutes, Joe can’t breathe.

Standing there, head tilted inquisitively towards him with a gentle smile is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s as tall as Joe himself but slender, with longish dark hair and stunning eyes the colour of the Italian Rivera. It looks like St. John’s Ambulance service hired a model for their uniform.

“Mr. Al-Kaysani?”

“Baba?”

Oh right, hell, words, words would be good here. Joe’s good at words. Supposedly. Two heart attacks in twenty minutes, he needs a break. On the other side of town, Andy’s probably laughing at him.

“Thank you, for looking after her.” He manages after a moment, “I – sorry, I’m a bit manic, no-one explained they just said they’d rang an ambulance and- please, I'm Yusuf, but everyone calls me Joe “

“Of course,” the paramedic’s eyes light with understanding, a flash like sunlight on water, and Joe’s already tired of just calling him ‘the paramedic’ in his head, “It’s completely understandable, it’s never a good phone-call to receive. I’m afraid Zara will have to miss a few matches and take it easy. RICE should help with the pain” he nods, once, the corners of that plush mouth turning up slightly, “Joe” he murmurs, as if in greeting.

“You eat rice for pain?” Zara pipes up, eyebrows furrowed cutely at this strange treatment. “I thought that was ice-cream. It’s not rice pudding, is it? I hate rice pudding, please Nicolò isn’t there anything else?” she protests and it’s only when the paramedic laughs and bends down on one knee in front of Zara that Joe realises that Nicolò must be his name.

“No, tesoro.” Joe blinks down at the dark shaggy head, pieces starting to slot into place. _Italian. “_ You don’t have to eat any rice pudding you don’t want to. It’s an acronym”

“Acronym?” she sounds the new word out carefully and Nicolò smiles in praise.

“Yes, it’s like a code word to make things easier to remember. It means when you shorten a phrase down to its initials and then say that as a word itself. So RICE, means Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation” Nicolò tells her, ticking off each initial on the hand not braced on his knee. “It’s how you and your Baba can remember how to look after your leg when I’m not here”

“Oh. Cool!” Joe watches the two of them smile enthusiastically at each other and feels his heart melt at Nicolo's quiet kindness, the lovely effusive patience that has him taking the time to explain and make sure Zara understands. _By Allah, he's beautiful._ No! Nicolò’s a professional. He’s being a professional and Joe’s meant to be a professional too and not lose his head over beautiful Italian emergency servicemen. It might not be too serious, but his daughter’s still injured for heaven’s sake!

“Joe! Joe’s where’s - oh, Zara! Thank God!” Nile comes sprinting across the grass towards the ambulance and stops when she sees the two of them together, her own relief obvious.

“Auntie Nile!”

“Munch, you _scared_ us. Are you okay, honey?” Zara only nods, smiling, sweet and reassuring.

“So what happened? Coach Becker was useless at explaining – “Nile stops dead as her eyes fall on the paramedic who’s still kneeling in front of Zara but had turned towards the new arrival just as they had. He’s grinning up at her, patiently waiting for her to finish talking.

Nile blinks and then a massive smile breaks out across her face. “Nicky?”

“Hey, Nile” he grins up at her, clambering to his feet. They don’t hug or even touch but Joe’s smile becomes a little static. He feels like he’s swallowed an ice cube whole. Nile catches his expression before he can change it and quickly clarifies “Oh, uh sorry, Joe, Nicky’s an old friend. I’ve told you about him - he used to be part of med-evac when I was in Afghanistan. He’s the one who patched me up.”

“Oh!” Joe looks at Nicolò – Nicky – anew. Yes, Nile had mentioned him several times. Nicky, the older brother she’d never had. Brother.

“Small world, eh?” Nicolò huffs gently, returning Joe’s gaze with an inscrutable expression.

“ _It’s a small world after all_ ” Zara sings distractingly from her seat on the step and the three adults laugh. Joe can’t help it, caught off guard as Nicolò laughs, the way his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle, head tilted up to expose the elegant column of his neck. _Even his laugh is attractive oh, fuck me._

Nile catches Joe’s eye and she flicks a glance at Nicky then turns back to Joe, suddenly grinning knowingly at him.

Joe leans down and scoops Zara up gently, cradling her close to his chest for a moment before lifting her to sit on his shoulders so she won’t have to walk. He takes hold of her hands and kisses them, heart resuming its normal rhythm.

“I can’t believe you two have never met,” Nile murmurs conversationally.

“Three” Zara pipes up again, crossly from above Joe’s head making them all chuckle again.

“Yes, three. Sorry, sweetheart.” He presses another kiss to Zara’s little hand, “We should get you home to rest, habibti. Disney films and ice cream. No rice pudding whatsoever. Doctor’s orders, right?” he finds Nicolò’s eyes, grinning in conspiracy. Nicolò looks up at Zara and nods solemnly.

“Absolutely. It was lovely to meet you, Zara. I hope we meet under better circumstances next time” He reaches a hand easily up towards Zara and takes her little hand in his to give a gentle shake. But when he steps away, his gaze returns to Joe’s.

They peel away from the pitch and Nile waves Nicky off, looking like Christmas has come early now the crisis has passed, as she steers the dazed Al-Kaysani family towards the car, with loud promises of meeting up with Nicky for a drink soon. Nicky waves at their retreat and the last Joe sees of him as they drive away is the man lithely jumping into the back of the ambulance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Nicky jumping into the ambulance is genuinely just because when everyone piles in the car at the end of the movie, Luca like dives in very lithely and like nothing this cast does is not sexy?
> 
> Title and Joe's line 'Not till God make men of some other metal than earth' is from Much ado about nothing
> 
> Translations!  
> habibti - female form of the endearment 'habibi', meaning my love
> 
> My tumblr url is @meet-the-girl-who-can if you want to come say hi!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile fulfills a promise, while Joe gets tricked and treated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been bowled over by the lovely enthusiasm this fic has received since it's pure self indulgence, really. Thank you so much for your kind comments, they've made me smile so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter

**Boss:** _So I hear you finally met our resident sexy paramedic?_

That night, Joe begins to suspect there may be…well, he’d say there seemed to be games afoot since he met Nicolo if he was feeling poetic about it, and he loves his family, he does but he also _knows_ them. And they’re not going to let this lie.

His phone chimes towards the beginning of _Brave_ , and he flops down next to Zara whose decided of all things that she wants to practise Nicolo’s steps of RICE by keeping her feet above her head by lying flat on the sofa with her legs propped up against the flat side of the arm, head turned to the side as she watches Merida protest medieval gender norms. It works, he’s not about to complain.

He snorts softly as he clicks on Andy’s message, not in the least surprised that she already knows. Nile had been very chatty about Nicolò on the drive home. And thank fuck for that, too, because it had meant Joe hadn’t had to prise information from her like a giddy schoolboy.

 **Joe:** _Yes. Surprised we haven’t met before now_

According to Nile, Nicolò had been in London for a few months and looking back, at the number of times Andy and Nile have both mentioned him, it is a shame they haven’t met by now. But he and Booker have childcare to think about and Nicky will have varying shift schedules what with being a paramedic so it’s not wholly surprising.

 **Boss:** _Aha! So you admit he’s sexy!_

Walked right into that one, didn’t he? Ah, fuck it. If he can’t tell Andy, he can’t tell anyone. Besides, as he lets himself drift back to Nicolò’s sure movements, his long tapering fingers and the way his hair fell in the way of those impossible oceanic eyes, his laugh, his smile _…_ it’s not like she’s wrong.

 **Joe:** _He’s beautiful. Kindness itself._

 **_Boss:_ ** _Christ, you’ve met him ONCE_

And then, because she’s Andy and she’s secretly kind and soft and she’d kill anyone who dared so much as breathe on them wrong, he gets the following message.

 **Boss:** _He really is._

“Baba, are you blushing?” Joe jumps at the sound of Zara’s voice, jolting him away from his thoughts of the warmth in Nicolò’s eyes and how he would shade to replicate their particular sea-green colour. She’s tilting her head back, which surely isn’t comfortable, watching him with interest.

“Uh, no,” he tries quickly, cheeks positively burning. “I’m just a bit hot. Aren’t you warm? I’m going to turn the heating off and get some ice cream, would you like some?”

“Please!” _Thank fuck,_ he thinks, grateful he can at least distract his daughter from his attraction to a certain paramedic. Shit, if he was the parent of a patient does that mean they have rules about not dating? Does it work like that? But she’s technically a former patient so would that still mean…God, he’s met the man once and he’s already – _ugh, get a **grip** Al-Kaysani_ he chides himself _._ Zara swings round to sit upright for her ice cream, pushes herself right back into the couch cushions so her feet are poking off the end.

“Can I have some Fish Food?”

“I’m sure we’ve got some somewhere, little fishy, for a little dishy. Hang on”

And Joe flees to the kitchen to try and cool down. Once he’s back, having moved on to _Hercules_ and armed with ice cream, he sees there are more messages from Andy – and a random one from Nile about dubbing Booker’s family ‘The Library’, whatever that’s about - and he immediately regrets his previous honesty. Well, okay not immediate regret, because he remembers the plush warmth of Nicolò’s voice and the way he’s run his fingers through that long hair, adorably bashful. 

**Boss:** _Drinks on Friday?_

 **Boss:** _Friday @ 7. The Prospect. Kevin and Isla are happy to take Zara_

Fucking hell but it still scares him a little, Andy’s efficiency. She had been the one to somehow secure clearance and charter a flight to Afghanistan when Nile had been hurt. She had stayed with her until Nile was better and then had brought their girl home. It was one of the reasons Andy had encouraged Nile to come to London for her PhD in Art History, knew it was about keeping the band together so to speak, keeping them safe. She had never gotten over the loss of Lykon, and then with Marina...Andy was protective, to say the least. 

This is…not one of those times? Andy’s never been so encouraging of his dating life before. Supportive yes, but now… he’s been out of the room five minutes and she’s arranged his Friday night and childcare. Nicolò must be different. But, Joe concedes as a flash of warmth flits through him, he’d already known that.

“Hey, squirt. Are you okay to go to Grandma and Grandpa for a sleepover on Friday?” he asks. He’s a bit shit in the discipline department, doesn’t like telling Zara she’s going to do something when there’s no ulterior motive (and yes okay there _is_ an ulterior motive but it’s not exactly noble is it?) so if she doesn’t want to go he’s not about to make her.

She will, because she loves her grandparents and they adore her, even if she wasn’t the last physical reminder they had of their daughter, but he likes to stress to Zara that consent is important in all things and if she doesn’t want to do something she doesn’t fucking have to.

Once Zara answers, sweetly predictable in her enthusiasm for the idea, Joe concedes his defeat. And then, the regret comes when gets a text from Nile that is all thumbs up emojis. Because that’s when he remembers Nile on the field, telling Nicky he’ll have to come to drinks so everyone can meet him properly. Emphasis on everyone.

**_Fuck._ **

How’s he supposed to pine quietly when there’s an audience taking bets?!

****

Friday night arrives in such a flurry that mercifully, Joe doesn’t have time to worry. And if he picks black slacks that make his ass look good and his favourite leather jacket, well _clothes maketh the man._ If he’s going to make a mess of tonight and Nicolò wants nothing to do with him, he’s going to look hot doing it.

Booker watches him carefully from over the rim of his glass across the booth. “I haven’t seen you flustered over anyone like this in a while”

“Like that’s a good thing” Joe shoots back without heat, knee bouncing under the table. Andy and Quynh are at the bar getting the next round in but Nile and Nicolò are nowhere in sight, as yet.

Booker just shrugs, “It’s nice to see you enthusiastic about a guy. You’ve been the odd one out for too long.” He smiles gently at Joe and Joe feels a rush of mutual affection for his brother. There's a lightness to Booker that hasn't been there since before Sabine asked for a divorce. He'd worried endlessly about custody, loved his children like his own soul. Mercifully, there's been no problems on that front, thank Allah. Used to be, Booker would make a crack about 'misery loves company' and now he just talks about loving company. Joe's eyes kindle at the change in his brother and the warmth in his heart grows at the way Booker's lips quirk in return. Yes. Maybe they've turned that corner at last. 

“You don’t have anyone. Nile doesn’t have anyone” Joe points out to keep the conversation light and then winces at his casual reference to Booker’s singleness betraying his thoughts, but Booker seems distracted and doesn’t flinch. Joes sighs guiltily. He’s not doing it to be nasty, he’s just nervous.

“Yeah well…” Booker clears his throat, shifts in his seat, “we’re not talking about me and Nile are we?”

“What about you and Nile?” Andy asks, picking up the tail end of the conversation as she and Quynh return.

“Nothing,” Booker says quickly, moving to take the tray from Andy so she can slip into her seat, “Joe’s just protesting our meddling and pointing out he’s not the only single person in the family” 

“Right now we’re scolding ourselves for not realising sooner that Nicky and Joe will be good for each other” Quynh tells him, ploughing on before Joe can protest, “We’ll get to you and Nile soon enough”

“What’s this about me and Booker?” Nile joins the fray, standing behind the men and making them jump, Nicolò at her shoulder

“You see what you’ve done?!” Booker glares at the amount of attention Joe has forced on him but Joe’s too busy drinking in the sight of Nicolò. He didn’t think it could get any better than the elegant fit of the paramedic uniform. It didn’t get better.

It got great.

Nicolò’s shirt is crisp and white as un-driven snow, perfectly fitted under a light grey blazer and jeans. Hair beautifully tousled and a pair of thin silver earrings threaded discreetly through his ears. Nicolò catches his eye as he’s shrugging out of his coat. For a moment his perfect face is stoic, expressionless smooth marble-like something from Michelangelo. Then the marble cracks and his eyes twinkle in the light as he smiles, dipping his head in hello as he and Nile take their seats.

***

_About an hour earlier_

“Nile, hello” Nicolò greeted his friend with a wide smile at the sight of her on his doorstep. “Ready to – What? What’s wrong?”

Nile was looking at him like he’s just admitted to something particularly peculiar. Her eyebrows furrow and her mouth twists in confusion.

“Please tell me you’re not wearing that”

Nicky glances down at his clothes in confusion. Jeans, boots and a t-shirt. “Yes? You said we were going to a pub? At least at first?”

“Yes but – Nicky, honey” she takes a moment as if she’s trying to find the best way to say something. And then, he’s always liked this about Nile, she’s exceptionally kind but she also takes no shit because he can see the moment she reaches her resolve. “I think we can do better. Joe’s going to be there, after all”

She winks and Nicky regrets meeting her for lunch yesterday and bemoaning his attraction to Professor – _Professor!_ – Yusuf Al-Kaysani. But there was his handsome face, his broad chest and strong hands that had been so gentle as he’d checked his daughter over. The impossible warmth in those deep eyes, the way he’d made Nicky feel like he was the only person in the world when he spoke to him.

Yes, it was safe to agree with Nile's (extremely lovely) assessment that he had it bad.

“Yes. And is he really so shallow that my choice of outfit would prevent us from pursuing a suitable conversation?”

“No! No! I didn’t mean, that came out wrong – look, you like him. He likes you” her tone grows firmer at the way Nicky blushes and ducks his head, refusing to believe her words, “ _He does._ And he could hardly look away from you the other day. Wouldn’t it be nice to repeat that experience by looking so drop-dead gorgeous - hush, yes you are - that he forgets anyone else even exists?”

Nicky remembers of course. The intensity of Joe’s gaze, the way he’d watched Nicky’s every move. It’s probably not the right word but it had felt positively sinful. _No. No, not like that, not tempting or wrong._ He shakes his head, moving away from stupid, irrelevant connotations. No, being under Joe’s gaze…it had felt like heaven. It had felt luxurious and Nicky had never wanted him to stop.

“Yes,” Nicky says, “Yes I want to”

Nile's fist pumps the air. “Awesome. Let’s go” she takes his hand and leads him back up the stairs to his flat. Once they’re in the bedroom, Nile heads straight for his wardrobe and starts skimming the meagre selection. “What about this, eh?” she pulls out a white shirt and the light grey blazer he’d bought for his St. John’s interview.

“Those?”

Nile looks at them again. “Yeah. Try ‘em at least? You’re fine with just your jeans and boots though, promise. But studies have proven that looking good helps make you feel good too. If they don’t we can find something else and I’ll shut up, I promise”

Nicky never really paid much attention to what he wore, as long as it fits and was appropriate to the occasion. They were clothes, nothing more. But Nile’s never led him wrong before. And it is Friday night in the City, so maybe he should dress up a little Changing quickly, he blushes again when Nile whistles, scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, ambling over to the mirror to see for himself. Hmm. It did look nice, actually. He liked shirts anyway, it reminded him of summer and the blazer would be good if he got cold. Stupid England.

“Good?”

As Nicky watched Joe’s face later that evening, the way the man’s beautiful eyes look him up and down, mouth slightly open, there was that stunningly intense focus about his eyes again. As if, as if Nicky were a piece of art.

 _Yes,_ he wanted to tell Nile. _Yes, this was good._

The conversation around them is still ongoing.

****

“What?” Nile asks, sparing a smile to Nicky as he takes her coat and pulls out her chair. Her brow puckering at the lack of information from joining a conversation halfway through, “What did Joe do?”

“Nothing, cherie. Ignore them” Booker sighs before standing and putting out a hand to Nicky. “You must be Nicky. Good to- oh” he stops, looks at Nicky properly. “It’s you” Booker’s eyebrows jump as he appears to recognise Nicolò. Nicolò just blinks.

The jab of unjustified hurt to Joe’s sternum easies at the way Nicky doesn’t seem to remember Booker, the way Booker remembers him. Not that Booker isn’t attractive but…Nicky’s _beautiful._ Unforgettable.

“I – _perdonami_ , but I don’t – “

“Oh, no” Booker’s smile returns and he claps Nicky’s still hanging hand in an enthusiastic handshake. “You’re a paramedic, you see thousands of faces. I don’t expect you to remember my drunken ass”

He lets go of Nicky’s hand and because he’s a good friend, he casts a reassuring glance at Joe before continuing. “I was in a bad way – I’m fairly recently divorced and unfortunately I rely too much on a little Dutch courage. Anyway, you _mon amie_ scooped me out the gutter, checked me over and dropped me home. We argued about Italian versus French football on the drive home.”

The others cast a worried glance at Booker, wondering why he hadn't called any of them - and how drunk he had been to have caught the attention of a paramedic but he waves them off. He's been getting better, drinking less recently anyway.

The sweet little scrunch between Nicolò’s eyebrows smoothes out into a surprised smile, “Aha, the deluded Frenchman! _Si, certo!_ You are a friend of Yusuf’s?”

“Hey, the rest of us are here too” Quynh teases, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Sebastien le Livre. Booker” the man himself clarifies, leaning back in his chair beside Nile. “Small world”

Joe glances over at Nicky to find he’s already watching Joe’s face. “ _It’s a small world after all_ ” they sing in sync, and along with Nile, burst out laughing. Joe resolves to take Zara out for ice cream tomorrow, just because.

And then his smile dims as a terrible thought occurs to him. He tries to quash the ridiculous realisation down because it shouldn’t matter. But it does. And Joe’s never been good at hiding how he feels.

“What is it?” Nicolò asks, and Joe stupidly glances at Nicky to see the other man leaning over the table, looking worried.

“No, just,” and Joe gave a strange laugh that sounded hollow, “ Turns out I’m the last one to meet you, is all”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting” Nicky murmurs and he looks so genuine upset that they haven’t met before now that Joe has to lay his hand flat on the table before he does something stupid and reaches out to smooth away the worried edge at the corner of Nicky’s mouth.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters” he finds himself saying instead before he can stop himself.

Those eyes of sea glass sparkle as if caught in brilliant sunlight and the worried crease haunting Nicky’s mouth melts into a combination of blinding smile and pleased dimples at Joe’s words.

_Oh boy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! This is probably going to be something of a slowburn (for like one more chapter, maybe) but everyone's met everyone (it really is a small world after all) 
> 
> This is hopefully going to be more alternating POVs in future chapters but I just wanted to show somewhat quickly that it is indeed mutual and Nile has every right to be pleased with herself. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Perdonami - forgive me  
> Si, certo - yes, of course


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of this chapter was supposed to be Nicky POV, but Quynh, Joe and Andy got here first. Nicky waited his turn. 
> 
> I have actually cut this chapter because otherwise it would be stupidly long. The dinner's actually going to happen but in part 2

Quynh and Joe are sitting in her office, editing their latest co-authored article together while Andy is laid out on the loveseat under the window whose blinds slanted to hide the room’s occupants, reading and hiding from the Dean. He’s trying to coerce her into going on another round of guest lectures and normally she’d jump at it but she’d always rather jump Quynh instead. Especially while both of their schedules have quietened down after the summer researching and lecturing. So, she’s hiding and Joe and Quynh are drifting through the article when Quynh’s mobile rings.

“Nicky my sweet! How are you, angelo?” Quynh’s answering smile only grows at the way Joe stiffens in the chair next to hers, eyes trained on the screen with new fervour. A week after their little meeting in the pub, and its clear Joe is smitten. It’s adorable. However, as far as any of them can tell, there is as yet no first date in the works. Yet.

Still, it’s only been a week, and a busy one at that, for all of them. Damned schedules.

And then Nicky says the magic words that are essentially the same as stopping the presses. Quynh gives a cheer of delight (made sweeter by the way Joe’s head whips to attention) and calls across to Andy, eyes sparkling. “Andromache, my heart. Nicky’s cooking dinner for us tonight”

Andy’s book falls to rest, splayed open, on her stomach “Oh thank fuck. Tell him he’s always been my favourite brother”

“Hey!” Joe huffs, on behalf of himself and the absent Booker.

“Nicky you’re my favourite brother!” she calls over, ignoring him.

“You don’t understand, Joe. Nicky’s cooking…it’s like eating ambrosia” Quynh hums reverently.

“I can tell, given the way you're salivating over the keyboard” he grins widely, turning back to the screen and stamping down the stupid envy bubbling in his chest. _He_ wants to eat Nicky’s ambrosia.

Bloody hell, did he really just think that?! _Nicolò Genova’s going to be the death of me,_ Joe realises as he tries to re-find the paragraph about Lorenzo Lotto and not think about the way Nicky gesticulates when he talks lively and beautiful, or the way he’d wrapped each of them in an effusive, gentle hug at the end of Friday evening, _but oh what a way to go._

“Mmph, what? Oh yes,” and Quynh’s voice takes on that keen edge Joe’s grown to distrust. They can never go back to Madame Tussauds as it is, “Yes, Joe’s here too. We’re co-authoring that article, remember I told you last week?”

 _“Would you ask Yusuf if he and Zara would like to come, please? If they’d like_?” Nicky asks down the line, sweetly shy in a way she hasn’t seen since they’d first been introduced, from where he’d had Nile wrapped around his front as she hugged him to death.

“Of c- why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks, confused. Nicky’s shy, but after last week…

_“I don’t have his number”_

_Oh for **fuck’s** sake_. Quynh gapes across the office to Andy, who immediately slides upright, concerned.

“You’re coming as well, _Yusuf_ ” Quynh turns to Joe, voice firm.

Nicky’s voice buzzes worriedly down the line at the way he’s being misrepresented and Quynh softens. _Sweet boy._ “I’m sorry Nicky” she laughs, “Yes, oka- okay, look here, ask him yourself, just hang on a minute,” she tells him before sliding the device away from her ear. But then she holds it away from Yusuf’s waiting hand, pressing the mute button, one eyebrow perfectly arched.

“Nicky wants to invite you to dinner. But he doesn’t seem to have your number…?” she lets the question hang in the air, just waiting. Sure enough, Joe cracks.

“I, well, I didn’t want to presume and it never came up and –“

Quynh sighs. _This is going to take longer than a week. Should’ve changed my bet when Booker offered._ She holds the phone out to him. “Give that boy your number, Yusuf” she instructs not unkindly, clicking off the mute function before he can protest and placing it in his waiting palm.

Joe looks at it like it might explode before snatching it up.

“Nicolò?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Is everything alright?”

Quynh rolls her eyes at Andy, waiting till her wife just sighs and relaxes back against the couch cushions, back to her book before turning back to her deadline.

****

“ _Yusuf? Hello!”_

“Hi, Nicolò. Are you – how are you?”

“ _Si, tutto bene! I, I just wondered if you and Zara would like to come to dinner with everyone? Booker and Nile have already agreed, and I assume from their enthusiasm, Quynh and Andy and it would be lovely to have the two of you there as well”_ The words spill out in an excitable rush.

“Yes! Yeah, that would be great, thank you.”

“ _Oh! That’s, that’s great. Are either of you allergic to anything? Is there anything you hate? I was going to make polpettes, would that be okay? Halal mince, yes?”_

Joe smiles, “Yes, thank you, that would be great. No allergies and Zara will definitely eat that, although – I’m sorry, she might ask where the spaghetti is, just to forewarn you”, he winces. _Please don’t let the sexy Italian hate me. Please don’t let the sexy Italian hate me._

But Nicky merely laughs warmly. It sounds busy wherever he is, given the music and voices in the background. The supermarket maybe? “I think I can make a concession. Is 6pm okay?”

“Yes, I- “Something light and heady tickles at his throat and then behind his sternum, at Nicolò’s voice, being a touch away. _God, where’s that grip you were supposed to get, Al-Kaysani_? “Can I have your number?” Beside him, Quynh coos and he slaps his free hand over her mouth. Then has to promptly remove it to take the pen and post-its she slides across the desk for him. “07 – XX-XX-XX-XXX. Got it. I’ll text you”

“ _Take care, Yusuf”_ Nicky murmurs, voice impossibly soft. Joe’s heart clenches around the words, a repeat of the last thing Nicky had said to him on Friday night, wants to keep them safe and warm inside his chest.

“Always.” He promises. _Let me take care **of you** , _he thinks unbidden, “You too. Goodbye, Nico”

“ _Bye_ ”

They hang up and Joe lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Without thinking, he slips Quynh’s phone onto the desk and immediately grabs for his own. Fills in the contact information and taps out a message

 _Nicolò?_ It might not be him, after all. He checks the digits on the post-it. Nope, should definitely be the right number.

_Hello again, Yusuf._

_Hi. Didn’t want to keep you waiting_ , he taps out before he can think about it and hits send.

 _I should hope not_ , comes the reply and Joe huffs when it pings through, a wide smile breaking across his mouth, eyes crinkling. He’s cheeky, too. Good. Cheeky’s good.

Beside him, watching Joe bent over his phone, the afternoon’s work completely forgotten, Quynh just shakes her head and opts to check her emails instead. Out of the three of them, someone should at least get some work done this afternoon.

****

“Nicky?” Nile called as she yanked her key out of the lock, shouldering her way into his flat, arms full.

“Nile” he jogged over, pulling the bags from her, “graze mille, tesoro mio” he grins, putting them on the floor to hold out his arms. Nile steps into them, surprised but pleased as she wraps her arms around his middle. Nicky’s not always tactile but he gives excellent hugs so she’s not about to complain. There’s a puff of air across her hair, from where her head is tucked under Nicky’s chin as he laughs gently, folding his own arms around her in return and kissing the top of her head. “I was reaching for your coat, but this is good too”

“Oh, sorry!” she goes to pull away, but Nicky just laughs again and gives her a squeeze before releasing her.

“Not at all” he does in fact take her coat then, and hangs it, with her bag by the door before retrieving the groceries she’d collected for him. He’d forgotten to pick up a fresh basil plant and parmaggio of all things. He had been standing in the cheese aisle when Quynh had passed the phone over and he’d gotten distracted. It was no wonder Joe was a professor, the man was a born storyteller, bringing his topic to life with the warm, lively cadence of his voice. The way he’d called him ‘Nico’.

He takes the things over to the open plan kitchen, pulling out a glass to get Nile a drink and then sort through the groceries. Everything else is pretty much ready to go, apart from actually cooking everything. As Nile drifts over to take a seat at the breakfast bar, Nicky starts singing along to the old love song leaking out of the radio on the bench.

“Someone’s happy” Nile beams, accepting the water when he hands it over, watching him. She’d offer to help but Nicky cooks solo, with a happy efficiency, finding the whole thing therapeutic. He just shoots her one of those barely-there smiles of his, rubbing a dash of flour onto his cheek bashfully in the process.

Nile pulled the plate of bread towards herself and started to dig in, nearly falling out of her seat when Nicky swatted at her with the tea towel. “Oh I meant to tell you, Andy and Quynh have this habit of being-“

The doorbell rang, breaking through her words and Nicky stopped dead where he was crushing yet another clove of garlic to add to the sauce.

“-early” Nile finished, shrugging unapologetically as if to say, ‘what’re you gonna do?’.

“It’s a family dinner tradition, whenever we get together like this, we always arrive early and have a natter” Nile mutters quickly as Nicky scurries over to the door to let them in.

“Family dinner?” he asks over his shoulder, even as he swings the door open, a gentle warmth settling in his chest at the sight of Andy, Quynh and Booker too, all standing in his hallway, clutching bottles. They grin at the sight of him, and he’s suddenly being enveloped in kisses and hair tousling as they hustle him into his own flat.

It’s nothing like the family dinners he remembers from his own childhood. There’s no stiff formality, only warmth, light and gentle. Yes, he thinks, watching Quynh and Andy greet Nile and start rooting around for the bottle opener they know is in the cutlery drawer, Booker’s light kiss to Nile’s cheek as he refills her water and fetches his own, a family dinner.

Almost. He’s just wondering if he should change, given he’s only in soft jeans and a worn cotton t-shirt, but the others all look like they’ve come from the office, Booker’s shirt collar popped open and sleeves rolled up, Quynh’s heels kicked under the coffee table when the doorbell rings once more, just after six.

_Yusuf._

Sure enough, like a magic trick the door opens to reveal Joe, his large hands wrapped around Zara’s shoulders where she stands in front. She’s not in school uniform, although it’s a weekday, and Joe looks beautiful in a dark blue shirt and khaki coloured trousers. His beard is shorter, Nicky notices, more like fetching designer stubble. Nicky’s mouth goes dry.

“Buonasera” he practically rasps, his poor brain forgetting the need to translate.

“Buonasera Nicky! Grazie per averci! La mia caviglia sta molto meglio ora!” Nicky gapes at the stream of fluent Italian that bursts forth from the little girl. Zara just smiles up at him, dimples she must have inherited from Joe shining through, like its the most natural thing in the world

Nicky recovers enough to drop to his knees so that he’s eye level with Zara, marvelling at her. “il tuo italiano e impeccabile, Zara. Sono content che tu ti senta meglio”

Zara smiles at him, suddenly shy, though those hazel eyes are glowing at the praise before she’s distracted by Booker shouting “Is that my Princess Zara?” and Nicky clambers to his feet, stepping away to let them through. For a moment, the two of them just watch as Zara is greeted by her aunts and uncle, jabbering away in an excited mixture of English, Italian and possibly even Dutch as they pet and fuss over her from where she sits in Booker’s lap.

“She has a wonderful grasp of languages” Nicky compliments. “Hello, by the way”

“Hi” Joe laughs, shrugging out of his coat. His eyes linger on Nicky’s face watchfully as Nicky holds out his own hand for it, fingertips brushing. “Yeah, she’s a little polyglot. Speaks better French than her teacher. Andy’s started teaching her Russian”

“Russian?”

“Mmph–hmm. There’s not a language our Andy doesn’t know. And we’re all fluent in Italian, so you’ll fit right in” Joe winks and Nicky finds his face warm, entranced by the way the action makes the corner of Joe’s mouth quirk upwards into a smile.

“You’re fluent” If he ever doubted there was a God, Nicky’s traitorous brain supplies guiltily, he knows there’s definitely one now. However, that means his plan of pining in his native tongue is out the window.

“Yeah, well, I went to the University of Genoa for my Masters. It’s where Book and I met, me with my Literature and him with his computers”

“You went to UniGe?!” Nicky seems to have been replaced with a parrot. Of all the places, in all the world…

“Nicolò?” Joe reaches out and Nicky claps the proffered arm for a moment, at the delicate bones of Joe’s wrist. “I did yeah, why?”

“I’m from Genoa” They were probably in the city at the same time, Joe’s only three years older than he is. And yet they’d never so much as clapped eyes on one another before London.

Joe’s eyes go wide, but then something must occur to him, the way his eyes crinkle. “Nicolò Genova from Genoa?” he teases.

“My family is old and pretentious and never goes anywhere” Nicky explains dismissively, waving his hand. “You were in Genoa”

“Yes” Joe agrees, hand twisting inexplicably to grip Nicolò’s wrist in return.

“I was meant to find you, Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Nicolò says bluntly, eyes gleaming, skin tight and hot as he suddenly realises his internal filter has failed. Yet again.

“The universe is rarely so lazy” Yusuf murmurs, taking Nicky’s meaning and turning it poetic. His face shining with something akin to conviction, but stronger? The words slow as if he’s testing out his understanding of what Nicky’s just said. And the gentle smile that bursts across his face suddenly is like watching the sun come up. 

How could the universe be lazy in the presence of such sunlight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations*:
> 
> If any of this is incorrect, forgive me I'm working with Google Translate and Duolingo
> 
> Si, tutto bene - yes, everything's fine  
> Buonasera Nicky! Grazie per averci! La mia caviglia sta molto meglio ora! - Good evening Nicky! Thank you for having us! My ankle is much better now  
> il tuo italiano e impeccabile, Zara. Sono content che tu ti senta meglio - Your Italian is impeccable, Zara. I''m glad you feel better. 
> 
> Nicky's making polpettes, meatballs basically, which I did not know are not usually served with spaghetti, according to Google they're served by themselves? Hence Joe's apology. Apparently the University of Genoa is great in IT, which is what Booker does in this universe as resident tech guy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner should always contain a revelation or two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get to the kissing, I swear! This chapter is really long but I refuse to cut it anymore because otherwise we'll never get anywhere at this rate.

“I was meant to find you Yusuf Al-Kaysani”

It’s rare that Joe’s rendered speechless, but the gentle lilt of Nicolò’s voice, the surety there, like he’s reporting on something obvious has Joe staring at him, utterly floored. Genoa. He came from Genoa. Joe thinks back to walking the streets, wandering through the Cathedral, doing all the tourist shit with Booker and Marina. And he’d never seen Nicolò. _How could I have missed you?_ Although, the near miss in itself isn’t surprising, really. This has happened before. The others existing on the fringes of each other’s lives, a series of near meetings, unknowingly orbiting each other before they’d collided.

Then Nicolò flushes, cheeks staining a lovely pink under a dash of flour that no-one’s mentioned yet, his mouth twitches in a pained smile as if he’s trying to think of something to say to gloss over his bluntness not realising how utterly charming it is.

 _He’s shy,_ Joe realises, as the Italian ducks his head. You wouldn’t think it not with the natural warmth he showered upon everyone around him. That he’s reserved is obvious, but Nicky’s shy too. There’s that warmth again, behind Joe’s sternum and he can’t help but agree with Nicky, when it gives him this thrill in his heart.

“The universe is rarely so lazy” he agrees, mirroring the movement and grinning when it gets Nicolò to look back at him. Those unique sea-green eyes twinkle happily, and out of the corner of his eye, Joe sees Nicolò’s shoulders relax. It would be so easy, to reach up and brush that flour away, lean in and – he stops the thought in its tracks. He doesn’t even know if Nicky sees him like that. He wonders what Nicolò’s had been thinking when he’d said they were meant to meet. How he’d meant it, if he meant it the way Joe does.

But before he can ask, there’s a shout from the kitchen and the rest of the world rushes back in, “Nicky! The sauce is bubbling like a volcano over here, what do I do?!” Andy hollers, looking mildly panicked.

Nicky whirls on the spot, muttering a soft curse in Italian. His hand releases Joe, fingers dragging over Joe’s wrist bone as they go, before he gently extricates himself from Joe’s hand, scurrying away to rectify the issue. Joe can’t help but follow, laughing with the rest as Nicky shoos Andy away. The woman has too many gifts to name, but she lives on take out.

“I hope it’s okay. _I_ don’t skimp on the garlic” Nicky announces, glaring at Nile who just rolls her eyes.

“One time, one time I put as many cloves as the recipe said to in it and he’s never let it go”

As he watches Nicky turn the ring down low, and fetch Joe and Zara glasses, Joe comes to stand next to Nile, still in the clothes she wore to class and shares her indulgent smile. They might not know each other that well yet, but Joe does know this, every time he looks at Nicolò, all he wants to do is look closer.

“It’s okay” Joe joins in easily, “I’m not kissing anyone soon”

“Good” Nicky says, then jumps so badly Joe wonders if he’s burned himself, “I mean! The sauce! The sauce is good now”

Joe can’t help himself, when Quynh winks at him behind Nicky’s back, he winks back at her, hope singing in his heart.

It turns out Booker’s bottle is non-alcoholic grape juice that he brought so Zara doesn’t feel left out, and Joe takes a glass too (Booker does as well, he notices, ever pleased at how much Booker’s trying to do better) and the three toast each other with great pomp.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted and haven’t actually made the polpettes yet” Nicky frets apologetically, gesturing to the mixing bowl abandoned on the counter. “It won’t be long, though”

Bless, it’s not his fault exactly, the others have been here a good half an hour, and Joe can imagine well enough that they’ve taken him from his task without meaning to.

“Can I help?” Zara asks, ever curious. Joe’s just about to ease himself up off the sofa he’s ended up om and distract her, but Nicky only nods, smiling widely at her, no awkward excuses.

“I would be honoured _principessa_!” he leans over the breakfast bar and speaks in a stage whisper, all former shyness packed away, “Maybe we could teach your Auntie Andy a thing or two, hmm?”

“Please do!” Quynh crows from the living room, “I’ve forgotten what vegetables look like!”

“Hey!” Andy protests in mock outrage, “You wound me, Mình à” strands of dark hair falling in her eyes but she’s grinning, swivels her stool to observe dutifully. Zara giggles and slides free of Booker’s lap.

Nicky fetches an apron from a low drawer and doubles it over and over to fit Zara before retrieving a double step from in front of the massive bookshelves that line the living room wall from floor to ceiling, he must use to see the top shelf so Zara can reach the counter

Joe gets a little lost in watching them cook together, the way Nicky shows Zara the bowl of ingredients and how to mix it, how she shoves her little hands right into the bowl and then gasps at the cold shock of strange textures. The way both their noses scrunch up at each other as they laugh at the foreign slimy feel of the mince and egg under their fingers. They’re moulding the polpettes into balls and rolling them in flour for frying, Andy acting as judge of whether they’re all equal size or not and midway through a passionate discussion of baklava with Nicky when Joe feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Huh, what?”

Booker laughs, following Joe’s trail of sight, “I asked, _mon frère,_ if you would like a refill.” He waves Joe’s empty glass in his face, handsome face bright “You look positively **_parched_** ”

God, his family are such assholes.

****

“Now what?” Zara asks attentively, pretty face turning from the assembled meatballs on their plate to Nicky and back again.

“Now, we put these in the fridge for a time to help them cook better and we wash our sticky fingers” Nicky tells her waggling his hand at her to make her smile, waiting till Andy’s helped her down off the stool to put away the polpettes. When he turns back, Andy has instead deposited Zara on the counter by the sink, and is slowly helping Zara cleanse the surplus ingredients from her fingertips.

When it’s his own turn, he can feel Zara’s gaze on her face. “You missed a bit” she gestures at his cheek and when he reaches up it’s to discover a dusting of flour along his cheekbone. _Dio,_ how long has that been there?

“Grazie cara” he nods, grateful _someone_ told him, considering Andromache had looked him dead in the eye for ten minutes and said nothing about it. Andy just smirks over the top of the girl’s curls and disappears off back to Quynh. He makes a decision to change his shirt after all, because it look he’s trying for a rather poor imitation of a ghost with all this flour.

Zara’s still watching him, and when their eyes meet she just smiles but doesn’t stop searching his face. He wonders what she’s looking for, to make such an intense study of him, peering at him so. Her hand reaches across to touch his cheek gently and he offers her a cautious smile before she says, “Blue is Baba’s favourite colour”.

And then she pulls her hand away, nodding to herself, obviously satisfied and the test is over. 

_What was that about?_ He wonders, helping her down so she won’t jar that ankle.

But then it’s time to change (and if he changes into a blue shirt, well that one was on top of the pile anyway) and finish off the dinner, plate up and eat so he doesn’t have time to think about what Zara had been trying to convey when it all goes to hell in a handbasket.

“Yusuf!” Quynh has lunged across the table and latched onto Joe’s hand, pulling a scrap of paper from her pocket. “Yusuf, we need you to draw us again”

Nicky’s eyebrows quirk, taking in the tableau with unguarded interest. Joe just grins and tugs at Quynh’s hands as if she has him prisoner. They’re the certainly the most dramatic of the lot, bouncing antics off each other effortlessly. Finally, he turns once more to Andy, who is prising her wife’s hand off Joe gently, folding their fingers together.

“I didn’t know you drew.” Nicky asks, leaning across to Joe. The man has endless gifts it seems. “Do they model for you?”

Booker snorts but when Nile pokes him in the ribs because there is a child in the room –Zara’s colouring in now that dinner’s finished besides Nile’s other elbow and isn’t paying anyone a blind bit of notice - and it’s not nice to make fun, Booker acquiesces and regards Nicky with gentle eyes. “Not the way you’re thinking. Although that too. Give Joe here some charcoal and he’s yours”

(Joe aims a kick at Booker under the table where Nicky and Zara can’t see, but they’ve been in this together too long and Booker already has his shins hooked round the chair legs, the bastard)

“No,” Booker’s kind tone doesn’t falter, attention still on Nicky because he loves them all really, though sometimes he messes up how to show it, “Joe does the art for Quynh’s tattoos. I take it this means you’re thinking of a new one, chị gái”

Quynh nods, shucking off her blazer to reveal bare shoulders, apart from the thin straps of her silky top and holds out her hands for Nicky to see. Beyond the several silver rings adorning her fingers and the chunky wristwatch, there are delicate patches of black ink on her wrists, behind her elbow.

“I was thinking of a line from Ovid, on my shoulder blade.” She taps the bit of paper with a finger nail.

“What do you think Joe? Could you design something for that?”

“ _nos quoque per totum_ …what’s it mean?” Nile asks, head twisted as she tries to read the paper before lapsing back to her seat beside Booker.

“We too shall be… equally faced – ah, _si -_ we too shall be equally faced in… poetry, throughout the whole world and our names shall always be linked, _oh bellisimo_ , mine to yours” Nicky translates for her, pleased his Latin has not grown rusty after all this time. “It’s lovely, Quynh. A beautiful ode”

He looks up from the paper; Nile’s gaping at him and Joe’s eyes are shining, shining, shining. “You know Latin?”

“Yes, I did it at school. For the mass and everything” When he only sees their confusion grown and everything, Nicky continues, “I was going to be a priest”

Joe chokes on his drink.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ Nicky cries helplessly as he realises what he’s probably just implied, “I’m not though” he insists, before misunderstanding can take hold and _destroy his life_ , “Never was. I did the initial propaedeutic year and they were going to send me onto the seminary – that how they know whether you’re serious about it, about being a priest when you start _seminary,_ but I – I couldn’t and I decided to choose a different path” Nicky explains in a rush, eyes fixed on Joe.

Booker sounds like he’s choking now, but that’s either because he’s sniggering or Nile’s taken it upon herself to throttle him.

“Life is a rich and varied tapestry” Joe says grandly, but his eyes are kind, “as Ovid knew all too well, poor sod. I nearly went into Marketing myself before I changed tack to Art History.” Nicky marvels at his quick kindness. Glossing over all the possible ways that conversation could have gone as nothing more than a change in career.

“I used to be in private security” Andy volunteers, missing nothing as she raises a hand to press, unseen and endlessly kind to rest between Nicky’s shoulder blades until he relaxes back. Joe beams at her as he liberates some paper and pens from Zara to start sketching.

Now, Quynh what were you thinking in terms of design- “Joe asks and the awkwardness slinks back from the cosy circle of light that they and the candles make around the dinner table.

****

“What is _wrong with me?!”_ Nicky groaned pathetically later that night when everyone was gone, from where they were curled up on the sofa watching Daniel Craig race through Siena, rubbing his long fingers over his face.

“Nothing is wrong with you” Nile says gently, reaching a hand out across the cushions for when Nicky’s ready to face the world again. And then, because she’s as bad as the rest and just wants Nicky to be _happy,_ continues “Or would you like me to call Joe so he can tell you that?”

“I could go off you, young lady” he retorts waspishly, cringing at the way Joe had treated him like spun glass the rest of the evening. He’d thought Nile was staying the night to be sympathetic, not tease him mercilessly at the way he hadn’t so much tested the waters as lobbed dynamite at them.

Nile snorts. “You’re only three years older than me Nicky. And only three years younger than Joe. Give over”

“I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

“You are not stupid. What you did wasn’t stupid. You told the man you were nearly a priest. Emphasis on _nearly._ It would’ve come up at some point anyway. And now he knows you understand Latin, Nicky”

“What if he thinks I’m some celibate nerd!”

“He _won’t.”_

“Well it’s not like I have actual notches in my bedposts I can provide as evidence is it?”

Nile grins wickedly. “I don’t know, Nicky. _Is it?”_

“That’s it, no more time with Andy and Quynh for you”

“You love it”

He does really. He reaches across to take Nile’s still outstretched hand. She’s too good for him really. She always says he saved her life, back in Afghanistan. But she saved him, too. Reminded him why he became a medic beyond war and death and blood. She has a habit of doing that, according to Andy. Pulls you in. That beautiful, quiet strength. It was one of the reasons he’d picked London, the others being here, when he’d decided to become a paramedic instead. And now there was Joe, Zara and Booker, he couldn’t imagine going anywhere else.

“And besides Joe is a massive nerd. He looked a little warm when you quoted Ovid”

“He looked hot” Nicky corrects, thinking of the way that dark blue shirt had complimented him, because it must be acknowledged but also he has no filter and his mouth hates him.

Nile, because she is a Queen among women, doesn’t take the bait. Merely salutes him with her mug of tea “He always does”

Meanwhile, a certain hot professor sat alone in his living room across town and put down his charcoal having finished the outline of the eyes he was drawing, fingers dancing along the tin of coloured pencils with a longing sigh, searching for a particular shade of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The propaedeutic year is apparently a year you have to do before seminary, and is about discovering if people are truly happy to become priests. Quynh has tattoos because Van has tattoos and is gorgeous. 
> 
> Translations (again if any of this is wrong, please tell me):  
> principessa - princess and Zara actually means princess in Arabic  
> Mình à- vietnamese endearment, literally meaning 'myself' because someone is so much a part of the identity they are part of you - how gorgeous is that?  
> chị gái - vietnamese endearment meaning 'older sister'
> 
> The line of poetry that Quynh wants tattooed is from Ovid Amores, (Book IV I think) and is the following:  
> 'nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem, iunctaque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis// We too shall be equally faced in poetry throughout the whole world and our names shall always be linked, mine to yours.'
> 
> Hands up, the more literal translation if you google is: 'We too shall be sung about equally throughout the whole world, And my name will always be linked to yours'. But, I have used the translation that I first ever read for that line because I find it infinitely more beautiful and it has never left me
> 
> I'm meet-the-girl-who-can on tumblr if you wanna come scream about Joe and Nicky


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zara takes matters into her own hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shovelling kindling because this is about to go from slowburn to bonfire* look, I don't know what to tell you except Zara takes matters into her own hands and there's kissing. I am just the vessel here. 
> 
> There's a bit of a time jump here because I'm not a slow burn sort of girl. I wrote this instead of sleeping and have also updated the tags.
> 
> Character has a mild panic attack mid chapter, from the words ‘Zara is that you?’ To ‘it’s okay honey’. Nothing bad happens, but it’s caused by poor communication

Zara thinks Baba is lonely.

It’s why she’s asked him if he wanted to get married again. Even when they’re all together as a family, it seems to be he’s sitting off to the side a little, even when he doesn’t mean to. When they have movie nights, she sees the way that Aunties Andy and Quynh sit together. Auntie Nile and Oncle Booker are together too and Baba’s on his own, once he puts her to bed. 

Sometimes when she comes down to breakfast she’ll see him rubbing his eyes like he’s tired and say a word in French she’s not supposed to know. No one will tell her what it means and Oncle Book had told her not to repeat it, because there are much prettier things to say in French and it was rude. 

So she asked Jean Pierre instead and it _is_ rude. And Baba’s only rude when he’s really angry about something. So he must really, really hate being alone. 

He sleeps alone in that big bed meant for two people and sometimes when she comes in to say good morning he’s still asleep and his arms are stretched out like he’s trying to hold someone that isn’t there, the way she sometimes does when she loses her teddy bear in the night down the side of the bed. So Zara jumps on the bed and gives him cuddles instead, because Baba doesn’t have a teddy bear or anyone to hold and tries to turn that frown upside down. 

But Zara knows that Baba loves Nicky because he smiles a lot and stutters the way people in love do and normally Baba always says the right thing but he blushes a lot around Nicky. Nicky blushes too. And they call each other on the phone a lot, for a long time and Baba draws Nicky too. She’s seen sketches in his book and in his office. And he only does that when he likes someone.

She likes Nicky too. He’s nice and pretty and helps her with her Italian and cooks really good. He came to the Tower of London once with her and Baba when they’d bumped into him at the coffee shop and had called her _principessa_ all day and let her hold his hand. _And_ he bought her a present - a shield to go with the sword Baba bought for her in the gift shop when he saw her looking at it and taught her how to parry and block.

‘The key to a good defence is a good offence’ he’d said, taking Knight training very seriously. More seriously than Baba, anyway. Baba had died, very dramatically on the grass and then jumped up and bowed to the tour group walking past. Nicky had just smiled at Baba, like he was trying not to and laughed a lot. Baba had given Nicky one of his special crinkly smiles. And then Baba had done something clever so suddenly he’d had the sword in his hand instead of Nicky and it had been Nicky’s turn to die then.

And that’s when she realises! Nicky is beautiful and good and loves them. Nicky is Baba’s ‘Most Beautiful Man in the World’! 

But why they aren’t dating? Or having sleepovers, like Baba sometimes has with boys he likes? Auntie Andy doesn’t know either and was annoyed they hadn’t ‘gotten their shit together’ when she and Quynh took Zara to the zoo last week, till Auntie Quynh told her off for saying a bad word and they went to look at the penguins.

_‘We’re leaving them alone! We’re even giving them time alone and they’re still just **looking** at each other”_

So Zara decides it’s time for drastic measures like in _The Parent Trap_ and phones Auntie Nile on the land line when Baba’s on his mobile to Nicky.

“Hello? Auntie Nile, I need your help”

****

“Zara? Zara, is that you, honey? What’s wrong?” Nile feels her throat seize up and claws at the chain where the gold crucifix her mother gave her always hangs, rubbing the small cross between her forefinger and thumb “Where’s Baba, Zara?”

Nile meets Booker’s panicked, wide eyes over his dining table, the Burger King they’d brought back from grocery shopping abandoned on the table top. Booker just stares at her in mutual horror. They’d taught Zara how to ring emergency numbers and alert when she needed help. No, no, please no.

“ _He’s fine? He’s in his office, talking to Nicky on his phone.”_ Zara’s confused voice buzzes over the line and something in Nile breaks, the tension going out of her with an audible sigh as she collapses back against her chair.

“You’re not hurt? Joe – Baba’s okay?” Nile looks across to Booker, who’s practically vibrating in his seat, knuckles white around his car keys, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

_“Yes?”_

After confirming that everyone is unhurt and nothing is on fire, Nile nods once with a thin smile in Booker’s direction. He is out of his chair in a moment, kneeling on the floor beside her, hand on her knee and she covers it with her own gratefully. “She’s safe. Joe’s fine. She, I’m just telling Uncle Book, honey, he’s here too. She wants help with a project?”

Booker practically collapses, head falling to rest on their joined hands, and Nile tucks the phone between her ear and shoulder, reaches across with her free hand, pulls the keys away from where they’re digging into his skin and rubs at the worried imprints left behind with her thumb.

_“I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m sorry Auntie Nile”_

“It’s okay, honey.” Nile reassures her shakily and sees Booker mouth the words back at her silently, entwining their fingers and breathing exaggeratedly to help her measure her own breathing.

“What’s – what’s the project?” Nile says when she can. Booker watches her face from his place on the floor, eyes keen, scruffy chin resting on her hand “Can’t Daddy help you?”

“ _No, no it’s **for** Baba”_

****

“They’re made for each other! And their UST might kill me! What are they doing?!” Andy huffed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling, across the city, glaring out at the skyscrapers. She’s just got off the phone with Joe, who, sweet man that he is, had stammered and stalled when she’d not so innocently dropped into conversation that Nicky had started coming to her gym. She wishes she could’ve taped Nicky’s face when he’d found out that the painting over their fireplace was one of Joe’s. Or when she’d showed him a video of what a salmon ladder actually was, where Joe was the one using it. 

“Maybe that’s why, my heart. Maybe it’s too important, too huge to comprehend. Life will change as they know it, if we’re right.”

“We’re always right”

Quynh waved her hand, changing tack ever so slightly, “Remember when we met?”

“You fell at my feet,” Andy smiles remembering. Life had changed so drastically then too, so brilliantly. She had been so alone, for so long. And then with Quynh, even in a crowd of thousands, she’d never felt alone again, as long as Quynh was beside her. The two of them, until the end, that was their promise.

“The pavement was cracked to shit and the sun was in my eyes” Quynh corrects, but she’s smiling too, that beautiful smile that makes Andy’s heart burst.

“Flatterer” Andy turned it round. Quynh just rolled her eyes, taking Andy’s hand and pulling her wife down for a long lazy kiss. Andy’s hand cups her jaw, and when they pull apart, she kisses Quynh’s forehead, before folding herself into Quynh’s arms on the sofa, letting her shoulders drop. The sky rolled from her shoulders, and Andy let it go. Let herself have a few moments where she could be touched, be seen, before she had to re-shoulder it again. As the years went by, Quynh and the others took more and more of the burden and Andy grew lighter for their light.

“What happened to not getting involved and letting them find their own way to each other?”

Andy snorted, pulling Quynh’s arms snugly around herself, eyes drifting shut. “Nah, fuck that for a game of soldiers.” Even though some of them did used to be soldiers.

“Andromache, it’s only been a month and a half” Quynh sounds as if she’s trying to keep the laughter from her voice.

“A month and a half of finding out that sloths move faster. I’m with Nile, just lock em in a cupboard at this rate. I’ve got five hundred riding on this. They are right in front of each other. They look at each other like-“ _like we do_ , but she knows that Quynh knows that, “ they always know where the other is, because they send each other good morning texts and shit, and they still haven’t-“

“Andromache” 

“-Fucked” 

“Made _love_ ” Quynh corrects gallantly.

“They make love every time they look at each other. I’m going to have to buy blinkers just to get through the day”

“You never send _me_ a good morning text, anymore” Quynh ribs just because she can.

“Because, babe, we are married and I make sure you have a good morning before we even roll out of bed”

Quynh smiles at the ceiling, thighs pressing together at the memory. _She did too._ Today had been a particularly _splendid_ wake up call, all things considered.

“And what do you think they will feel if they are tricked into admitting their feelings before they are ready? By you no less?”

Andy deflated “Fuck” If they tried to jump start Joe and Nicky, who were orbiting each other with such care, the whole thing could go monumentally tits up and they’d have to wait all over again.

“But, that is not to say that we cannot arrange a setting which has all the potential for romance, where they can choose whether they admit their feelings or is wholly platonic and they simply continue as they are?”

Andy sits up, the genius of it dawning on her. They’ll never relax if they have an audience, and even leaving them alone for hours hasn’t done anything, with all the interruptions of work and family life and scheduling. But done up all gorgeous, just themselves for a free evening…

“I love you” she reiterates reverently

“As I love you. But I cannot claim all the credit. Apparently Zara called Nile and asked how she could get her father and Nicky to go on a date so they could be happy?”

Andy burst out laughing. Sweet, clever, insightful Zara. If anyone could get those two to admit their own attraction, it would be Joe’s own daughter. Nicky plainly adored her, as everyone did, but at the same time Zara had taken to Nicky in a way she’d never warmed to any of the other of Joe’s flings. She’d seen his permanence, not just as part of their little family, but in Joe’s heart and he’s firmly become her favourite to cling to. For himself, Nicky was wrapped around the Al-Kaysani family’s fingers and was happy to be so.

“That’s my girl”

Andy sighs and lets herself drift away; forgetting everything but the scent of Quynh’s perfume, their laundry detergent and under it, the scent of Quynh herself and the arms around her. She just wants their family safe, these boys to be happy. There’s a loneliness that haunts them, that none of the others can banish. They give each other something she’s never seen in either of them before. Nicky pokes fun and that gentle serenity breaks around Joe. He lets himself be himself, not who he thinks the situation dictates he should be. His eyes light up and his politeness drops, forgetting his careful watchfulness. And Joe, Joe’s so soft with Nicky, so relaxed, not constantly watching the others trying to ease their path. He’s just focused on Nicky and their time together, on having fun and living the moment, rather than trying to entertain.

If only they’ll allow themselves to have each other.

****

It’s not a trap. It’s _not_. It’s a…strategic arrangement that either party is free to leave at any time.

Nile still feels like shit over it though. “Y’know,” she starts when she, Andy and Quynh all pull up outside of Joe’s house. “When I told you what Zara wanted, I didn’t think y’all would actually go through with it! She’s a smart girl, but she’s eight! She doesn’t know about dating or anything. We cannot seriously go through with the _eight-year old’s plan_ ”

“We’re not going through with the eight-year old’s plan. We’re going through with the refined version of the eight-year old’s plan” Andy retorts, tone brooking no argument as she puts on the handbrake and undoes her seatbelt.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to lock them in a cupboard?” Quynh asks, peering round at Nile. “This is much better”

“I cannot believe this.” Nile thunks her head against the headrest. This was never going to work. Plus, Nicky will kill her, and he will be right and then he will never speak to her again. But he will look hot doing it. When Andy had said they were going out for a posh dinner to celebrate Quynh’s book being published – which, they totally are, but that’s next week, provided they’re all still alive by then – Nile had helpfully suggested Nicky go simple but sleek in all black; suit, shirt, tie. He rocked it, and the guy manning the changing rooms had joined in and whistled when he’d come out to show her. Joe was going to have a stroke.

But that raised another issue Nile was having with this whole thing, “Plus, we get all dressed up and we’re not even actually going out to dinner” She’d suggested just turning up dressed casually, if only to stop her roommates giving her grief about a non-existent hot date but one look from Andy had shot that idea in the foot. So, she’d had half an hour of Ciara and Leonora making suggestions for her outfit and trying to guess whether it was someone from one of their classes or the ‘hot, blond French dude whose built like a tank we always see you with’ or maybe the ‘lithe, sexy Italian model whose always in Professor Al-Kaysani’s office with you’. Never mind that said lithe, sexy Italian model was in the office for Professor Al-Kaysani more than her. She couldn’t wait to see Nicky and Booker’s faces when she told them that string of compliments. So she’d said fuck it, and piled her braids up into a bun, leaving some to frame one side of her face and some long drop earrings with her pink wrap dress. She looks hot. Fuck it. Give them something to talk about.

“I’m sure Booker will take you out to dinner while we babysit, sweetie” Quynh says, a propos of nothing. Nevertheless, Nile brightens at the prospect. Booker always knew good restaurants to go to. Maybe they could try that Brazilian place he’d had that business lunch at, that had sounded good.

Booker’s already there, leaning against the railing of the stairs that lead up to Joe’s front door, chatting to Joe and Nicky as the three women clamber from the car. The three of them look _good,_ Book especially considering the whole thing’s a ruse, in a navy suit and crisp white shirt, Nicky slim and svelte in black (Joe looks like he’s gunna pass out, any second and Nicky’s ears are _bright_ red) while Joe’s wearing an emerald blazer and black slacks that showcases his broad chest beautifully.

This is going to work.

Andy and Quynh who are both gorgeous in their own suits, Quynh’s got this strappy sort of top that Nile is going to need to borrow one of these days under her own charcoal blazer and Andy’s all white ensemble, wink at her as Booker comes tripping down the steps to greet them all.

“I’m gonna get cold aren’t I?” Nile complains, Booker’s warm embrace like a furnace around her bare shoulders. “I should have suited up as well”

Booker just quirks an eyebrow at her expression, blue eyes sparkling at her, “I won’t let you get cold, Cherie. You’re stunning, as you are”

“And what are we, window dressing?” Quynh teases, holding her own arms to Booker, who relinquishes Nile after a moment to envelop Quynh instead, but she catches sight of Andy’s face and there’s something there she can’t quite decipher. Andy’s eyes are far away and shining, as if she’s just seen something old and familiar and missed.

Nile watches as Booker takes Andy in his arms in turn, cradling the back of her head. From the turn of her head it looks like Andy’s saying something in Booker’s ear but her mouth’s hidden in his shoulder. Whatever. There’s enough secrets going around at the minute, Nile doesn’t want any more just now, so she turns to greet Joe and Nicky instead.

Nicky is holding Zara in his arms easily, not in the least interested in wrinkling his suit, her own arms slung possessively around his neck. She’s practically adopted him already. Fuck, but stood shoulder to shoulder like that, framed in the doorway, the hallway light spilling out into the street they already look like a family.

Nile’s eyes feel hot.

“You okay there, Cherie?” 

“Yeah, fine” Booker looks at her knowingly, lips twisting into a wry grin, “Just, y’know got a tree branch in my eye” he kindly doesn’t comment, or draw attention just pulls her up the steps with the others to greet the two men.

“Are you okay, tesoro?” Joe asks quietly, holding her gently. Nile huffs into his collarbone.

“Yeah, just, a long day” and a heart full of grateful love that is going to give the fucking game away and a thesis she can’t see the end of.

“Well, over now. Try and enjoy tonight and we’ll sort out tomorrow when it comes, yeah?”

“Mmmph” If he doesn’t disown her first. Hopefully Quynh will take her on instead.

“He’s right” Nicky agrees when it’s his turn to hold her and Nile feels a little ill with guilt. Next time, she’s keeping her mouth fucking shut.

“We’re in too deep.” She hisses at Booker when Joe starts locking up the house, ready to head out, “Abort mission. Abort mission.”

“This?” he huffs that deep laugh at her “This is nothing. You weren’t there for Las Vegas in 08. I’ll tell you when we’re getting in too deep, _ma belle_.”

“What happened in ’08?” She was always eager for stories from before she knew the others.

Booker just huffs a shallower laugh and shakes his head, flicking a glance at Andy, in lieu of a proper answer.

“If you say ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’ I’ll kill you, Le Livre”

Booker catches her hand and gives it a squeeze “Stop trying to cheer me up, _mon tresor_. And I wasn’t going to. I’ll tell you over dinner, _oui_?” He blanches after a second, “If you want to go? I mean, just because this is a ruse, doesn’t mean we can’t go and get something nice to eat – or we could do take out-“

Nile beams at him and squeezes his hand back “Dinner would be great”

Booker relaxes, and looks down at the way Nile still has hold of his hand. She brushes a loose thread from the sleeve of his jacket, hand resting there and steps closer, “Can we try that Brazilian place you mentioned the other day?”

“Of course”

While all this was going on, Joe and Nicky had crossed the street to where Mrs. Stuart lived. The kindly old woman smiled at the two handsome boys and the sweet little girl when she opened her door. “Hello pumpkin! And Zara too, hello sweetheart” she winked at Nicky as he put Zara down while Joe choked. Nicky winked back, because he is secretly a little shit. “And who is this handsome boy, hmm?” even though she knew full well. Nile had to laugh. Mrs. Stuart had delighted in the whole intrigue and was only too glad to help, saying it was high time Joe found someone to sweep him off his feet. “You must be Nicolò. Oh yes, you’ll do nicely”

Joe started choking again, except this time Nicky had joined in.

“Thank you for taking her, Philippa. She’s had her dinner and done her homework” he managed after a second. “Are you _sure_ – “but he’s looking at Zara, making it clear to her, but his little hurricane just waves “because I can come back any time, my phone’s on and- “

“Oh shush. Zara and I will be just fine won’t we honey? You boys have fun now” she waved them off, voice layered in meaning.

Joe dropped down to give Zara a last kiss goodbye and when he stood up, Nicky found a little person wrapped around his middle, he returned the embrace gingerly. She was so small. “Bye bye tesoro.” He murmured softly, a hand on Joe’s back as they left Zara at the door.

“See you real soon, sweetheart” Andy called up from the pavement and the others all waved. Zara, beamed at all of them, practically vibrating with excitement until Mrs. Stuart led her inside and closed the door.

“Well,” Andy started, “We’re not all going to fit in my car. Joe, Nicky, why don’t you two ride together, and we’ll meet you there, so at least some poor sod’s not on his own?”

Joe and Nicky looked at each other, and bless their little cotton socks, just nodded at each other with shy smiles. Any excuse to have time together. Nile shook her head. Yeah, okay, maybe this was a little necessary, after all.

They pile into Andy’s car and watch as Joe and Nicky clamber into Joe’s own vehicle.

"We should feel bad about this, shouldn't we?" Andy asked conversationally, betraying how not sorry she felt.

“Probably” Quynh added as Andy put the car into gear, and beside Nile in the backseat, Booker snorted. “Once around the block ought to throw them my love”

*****

“I have no idea where the others went” Joe commented as he and Nicky reached the entrance to the restaurant. Walking in like this, he itched to take Nicky’s hand. Just the two of them like this, it almost felt like a date. Instead he grabbed his phone and fired off a quick text to Quynh

 **Joe:** Where are you? xxx

He kept meaning to ask Nicky out, yearning to but…he couldn’t find the perfect words. Beside him, Nicky just shrugged, “I’m sure they’ll be here in a moment” as they reached the maître ‘d. “Uh, I think it’s under Scythia?”

The young woman’s eyes lit up, “Oh hi! Sure, we’re ready for you – if you’d like to follow me?”

But before they could, Joe’s phone pinged back

 **Quynh:** You know what they say about two’s company ;) Enjoy your date! Xxxxxx

Joe gaped at his phone. No, they…they wouldn’t. The realisation washed over him, icy cold. Oh, but they had.

Swearing intensely in Arabic, he all but jumped a foot when Nicky grabbed his arm, eyes wide.

“Yusuf, what is it? What’s wrong?”

What could he say? What could he do? Nicolò didn’t deserve to be trapped into this! Wordlessly, Joe just held up the phone, waiting for Nicky to read it. And when Nicky paled, the hand on Joe’s arm going slack, Joe had his answer.

“I- I didn’t know, I swear, I wouldn’t, I would never- “I _would have asked you myself. I want to. I-_

But Nicolò just nods once, sharp and terse. “Of course not.” And something goes cold in those eyes Joe sees everywhere he goes, replaced by something hard and foreign, “I was fooling myself. I should never have believed - You could never want **_me_** \- _perdonami”_ and then he’s off and out the door, leaving Joe devastated in his wake.

_You could never want me._

_Where did he ever get that idea?_ And something in Joe caught fire. He dived after Nicky, “Nicolò, wait! Wait! _Aspettami!”_

Nicky stops, thank fuck, at the lip of the steps outside, but there’s only torment in his eyes and it’s so wrong and why did Joe ever wait, because Nicolò – Nicolò

“What is it?” he asks, voice crisp and polite and a thick current of want pierces Joe’s heart, for Nicky, for Nicky’s true self; beautiful and bright and cheeky, not this construct he’s erected so quickly, this barricade between their hearts.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Except it’s the worst kept secret in the world, and he doesn’t know how Nicolò never found it out, especially if - if Nicolo, a miracle beyond his understanding, wants him in return? 

Nicolò laughs bitterly, once. And it’s _wrong,_ wrong, wrong, wrong. But he turns, to look Joe in the eye, surprised by his choice of words, which was the point. “I thought we had no secrets”

And Joe’s beside him, but hovers, heart breaking. Because he's right, they don’t. “All but one, Nicolò. All but one. And none, any longer, if you will let me tell you this.”

Something in Nicky’s face softens, though his voice is still thick with emotion and Joe instantly wants to drink it, take it away, replace it with love and hope and desire, “I have never had the strength to deny you.” His gaze flicks down to Joe’s mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Besides, now you know mine”

 _I was fooling myself, I should never have believed…want me._ Nicky wants this too. Wants him. Joe takes one, final breath, hoping it will settle him. It does nothing of the kind. “You are everything I have ever wanted, Nicolo Genova” Joe tells him before he closes the distance in one stride and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? I hope nobody minds but I've had this scheme in my mind since at least chapter two.
> 
> Translations (again, if any are wrong, please tell me!)  
> Aspettami! - Wait for me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are FINALLY had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! Please forgive the delay from this chapter, real life has been kicking my ass the past few weeks and I just couldn't get in the right place to write this chapter. I've written so many little bits of fluff for AFTER this chapter, but this chapter being the springboard to all of that, eluded me. Thank you so much for all your kind kudos and comments, they've given me things to smile about! I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> EDIT: I rewrote this chapter because I felt the pace was wrong. I haven't taken anything out, just added a fair bit more angst and they actually talk

Nicky’s always been fairly handy in a fight, all things told. But this strange trick of setting he and Joe up on a date, by people he considers family, is a searing cut straight to his heart. Joe clearly doesn’t want this. Turning on his heel, he strides from the restaurant, apologies tripping over each other in their haste to get out of his mouth. He needs – he needs – air. Someone shouts after him, but he doesn’t hear it. The night air slaps him cold in the face a second later when he finally gets out of the damned place and he’s grateful for it, stuffs greedy mouthfuls into his starving lungs.

_Vaffanculo, why? Why would they do this? When they knew, when I –_

There had to be a reason why the others would set him up like this. He hasn’t been subtle, in his affection for Joe, but he’d thought maybe… Nicky shook his head and took another shaky breath, willing his heart to slow

The look on Joe’s _face_ when he’d seen the text about ‘enjoying their date’. The last time Nicky had seen Joe look like that had been the first day they met, when he’d rounded the doors of the ambulance where Nicky had been treating Zara’s ankle and keeping her distracted. Terrified, utterly terrified. He has to get out of here. He’ll, _fuck,_ he’ll try to salvage his friendship with Joe in the morning, tell him it was all a huge misunderstanding. Make sure the others keep those noses firmly out of his lack of a love life in future.

Shit, they’d come in Joe’s car, hadn’t they? Nicky starts walking again, scanning the streets for a taxi rank.

“Nicolo, wait! Wait! _Aspettami!”_ Joe’s voice stops him in his tracks, and Nicky feels a surge of irritation at himself as he turns around. _Can he never say no to this man?_ After he’d so foolishly let his heart bleed out in shock, all over the restaurant’s carpet.

“What is it?” he asks, voice blessedly controlled as he stares resolutely at the empty air under Joe’s right ear

“Can I tell you a secret?”

 _What?_ A laugh startles out of Nicky’s throat and it sounds cold and strange to his own ears, “I thought we had no secrets” It’s true. Joe knows why he never went on to seminary, why he left Med-Evac. Joe knows the name of the first boy Nicky ever kissed, and the absurd recurring nightmare he has whenever he’s ill and the scar Nicky got on his knee from falling out of a tree when he was nine. Joe _knows_ him. Except for the only secret he has ever kept from Joe, the first and last. The terrible pining crush he’s had ever since Joe turned up on that football pitch. But Joe has a secret from him, too?

“All but one, Nicolo. All but one.” Joe’s voice is unbearably soft, and Nicky can feel those beautiful eyes on his face. He doesn’t want to look, out of that mute terror of his own, that for the first time, he’ll see something he doesn’t like. Nicky’s heart bobs up and down in his throat.

“And none, any longer, if you will let me tell you this.”

Joe’s so close now, only an arm’s width away from him. Nicky can’t help it (when can he, when it comes to Joe?) He looks.

Joe’s eyes, which always have a twinkle about them, are ablaze now, and if they had another thousand years Nicky would probably know exactly what that look meant, but right now, he gets lost in the sheer warmth of it. Warmth, not revulsion. When their eyes meet, Joe grins, that flash of white teeth and pink lips pulling upwards, eyes crinkling that always makes Nicky short circuit. There’s so much light in Joe’s smile, such open, all embracing warmth.

“I can never deny you anything” He all but whispers. He can’t stop looking at Joe’s mouth. How pink it is, pink and perfect. And, _santa maria madre di dio,_ he thinks passingly as Joe’s tongue darts out to wet his lip, thoughtfully. Joe knows now, that Nicky wants to be with him after he’d so foolishly blurted it out “Besides, now you know my secret”

Joe hums, low in his throat. Nicky’s gaze jerks back to Joe’s own at that in askance and is rewarded with another gentle smile. 

“I do. And here is mine: you are everything I have ever wanted, Nicolo Genova” Joe tells him before he closes the distance in one stride and kisses him.

Joe _kisses_ him.

And everything goes from being too much, to not being **_enough_** , not nearly enough. All Nicky knows, all Nicky wants to know is the plush softness of Joe’s mouth pressed chastely to his.

_You are everything I have ever wanted; you are everything I have ever –_

He kisses back softly, hands fluttering until they land blindly, one covering Joe’s own where it’s come to rest on the base of his neck, the other tracing the line of Joe’s jaw under the soft scratch of his beard. It’s one of those lush, small kisses that lends it’s so easily to two, then three more before the lack of oxygen overpowers everything

They pull apart, first only a scant centimetre, but then Joe leans away fully. Nicky lets him go and they blink, smiling at each other shyly. “Was that, is this okay? Nicolo?”

Nicky nods, enthusiastic and heady from it. “Yes, yes, Joe, I –“ he swallows, determined to steady himself because Joe deserves his own confession in turn, to his face rather than something hurried as an apology, told mostly to the floor.

_You are everything I have wanted, Nicolò Genova_

And all he can think to say in return is, “You are all I have ever hoped to find” 

Joe beams at him and slips down to entwine their hands, brings one to his mouth and gently brushes a kiss across Nicky’s knuckles. But when he lowers their hands again, even though he doesn’t move to let go, a shadow flits across Joe’s face, dampening his smile. 

“Joe? What is it?”

“Nicky, please believe me - I had no idea what the others were going to do. I would never trick you into anything! I wanted to ask you out for myself, I always hoped that we might-but then they ambushed us and –well”

Nicky nods, hoping his expression is reassuring. He’d known that, immediately. Joe wouldn’t do that to him, and whatever else the others reasoning for tricking them like this was – given than he and Joe seem to feel the same way, Nicky’s anger is subsiding, stolen away by the reassuring warmth of Joe’s hand in his, the worn path of callouses on his fingers, “I think, we should talk about this, yes?” Nicky asks gently, suddenly determined that there be no more miscommunication between them.

Joe brightens, obviously relieved “Yes! Yeah, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date” he confirms, and Nicky’s grateful for that, because of all the times they’ve had dinner before. Then, impossibly sweet, he adds “It doesn’t have to be here and now, of course. We find somewhere we actually chose or I can drop you home and-”

“I would love to go on a date with you Joe.” Nicky promises, giving Joe’s hand a quick squeeze. And then, as if to prove his point, his stomach literally growls. Ah. He’s actually pretty hungry for food, too. It’s been a long day, racing across the city and lifting backboards. “Here would probably be a good idea” he confesses with a groan, pressing his free hand to his stomach and pulling an apologetic face at Joe, “That’s not very attractive is it?”

“You are very sexy” Joe tells him consolingly, grinning now, wicked and easy at the way Nicky’s eyebrows dart upwards. **That’s** new. _Sexy not attractive_. _Well it can be both of course_. _But -_ but then Nicky’s stomach burbles again, quietly. Joe blinks, and purses his lips together, swallowing a laugh ‘But that was just plain cute’

“It wasn’t- I’m not - **_cute!_** ” Nicky flushes properly now at the ridiculousness of it as he tries to process the fact that Joe is using words like ‘sexy’ and ‘cute’ to describe Nicky and is actually meaning it.

“Very, very cute and just providing more evidence. Now, come on we need to feed you, you’ve been running around all day saving people” he declares decisively.

“You’re making it sound more dramatic than it is, Yusuf” its meant to be a complaint, but Nicky’s smile betrays him and Joe winks back at him as he leads the way back inside.

The server, Katherine grins when she catches sight of their joined hands. It strikes Nicky as a little odd to finally be on a date with Joe, because it seems to reinforce what everyone else has been trying to get them to realise. This is so easy. They could’ve been doing this for ages. Which, they sort of had, in a way. But they could have been _kissing_.

****

Katherine’s grin doesn’t falter as she leads them to a secluded table which suggests she’s far more invested than would first appear and once they’re seated she slaps a pair of menus down before announcing, “Professor Scythia’s going to foot the bill”

“Is she now?” Joe smiles back, all nonchalant charm “Because we’re _starving”_

In the end, they decide not to bankrupt Andy but just pick what actually sounds nice as they order because Andy may be blunt but she is, always, unfailingly kind.

“So”

“So”

The both of them smile at each other, and Joe knows that Nicky’s thinking the same thing as he is, when this happens. _So, you feel the same way I do. So, we’re doing this. So, where do we go from here._

Joe stretches a hand out across the table, just lets it rest across the table, palm out. Nicky own eyes, pale as sea-glass, track the movement and Joe offers a shy smile. He unfurls his hand and reaches back. Even still, Joe jumps at the touch, the way Nicky’s fingertips meet his, featherlight. How he traces over the lines of his palm before interlocking their fingers.

“So,” Nicky murmurs again, accent thick and lovely and forget the food, that’s what Joe’s hungry for, to taste Nicky again. Now that he can. “You said you wanted to ask me out but… you never did. May I - ask not?” Nicky squeezed his fingers, encouragingly.

 _Stop being shy and get your shit together_. a voice that sounds a lot like Andy says in the back of his head. Communication is important and not communicating is what took them so long to get here. Joe lets out a soft sigh of his own. He owes Nicky this, complete honesty, especially the way he makes everything sound easy, like these giant concepts are the most obvious things in the world.

“I wanted to be sure I guess. I don’t mean of **_you_** , habibi,” he rushes, the endearment slipping easily. “I’m meant what I said. You are everything I have ever wanted but I wanted to be sure that you felt the same.”

Nicky went to speak but Joe held his free hand, ”no, please, let me finish. I’m a package deal Nicky. Always. And you, your gorgeous and kind and you could have anyone you wanted and I grew content just hoping. And normally, with guys, it’s okay when it’s a one time thing because it won’t affect us. Me and Zara and who we are. Most guys don’t even meet Zara.” Something he says makes Nicky wince.

 _One time thing, shit,_ “But it’s not like that with you.”

“No. No it's not. I wanted- Yusuf,” Nicky pauses and its long enough that Joe is about to pull away properly but then something in Nicky ‘s face shifts. Becomes determined and he asks, “It was the same for me, not knowing how to ask. I mean, will you be my boyfriend?” It’s forthright and painfully sweet and so utterly Nicky, that Joe’s heart aches with it. _My brave Nicolò_.

“Yes. Nicolò, habibi, this is what we’re doing. Yes, I want to be with you,”

Those ice blue eyes are blazing at him. Nicky’s thumb strokes over the back of his hand, moving the conversation along, settling “But we might not have met if not for Zara” he reminds Joe gently.

“Oh, I think it would have happened eventually. But it might not have been the same. She adores you. I’d be jealous, but well, I adore you too”

Nicky flushes, and Joe loses his train of thought, wonders precisely how far that lovely blush goes down

Joe chuckles, “I thought I was being obvious how I felt and you were just being –“

“Oblivious.” Nicky insists, leaning forward, handsome face serious, “Joe, I was utterly oblivious”

“What a pair we make, eh?”

Nicky laughs in agreement, grinning that rare, full smile that Joe loves best.

“Yes. I meant what I said too and - I don’t think there is a person on this Earth who would not cherish you and Zara.”

They smile at each other , the relief of finally being on the same page, knowing that they were all along, is palpable. Time to start figuring out who they are, together.

They’ve just finished talking about Joe and Quynh’s joint paper on the symbolisms of vanitas artwork and how he’s started playing around composing his own versions, which has led to a sort of character study series he’s doing for each of them. Booker’s has a lot of books, of course and Nile’s got some Frank Ocean CDs, Andy’s will have a Rodin - when Joe’s phone peeps:

 **Boss:** I have a certain person here who wants to know if her evil plan is working

A picture of Zara, swinging her legs on Andy and Quynh’s couch pops up after the text, and given that it’s the clothes he’d dropped her off at Philippa’s in, it’s obviously from tonight. Those sneaky bastards.

 **Joe:** Fucking hell

 **Joe:** So first you set us up and then you kidnap my child?! 

**Boss:** Go big or go home

 **Joe:** What’s next Grand Auto Theft?

 **Boss:** Nah we’re starting a band

 **Boss:** Proof, Yusuf.

It turns out his long held assumption that Andy doesn’t know how to use emojis is wrong, because there’s two little clicking fingers appear in the next message.

“Nico, it seems we’re being requested to provide evidence that we have actually admitted to one another how we feel” He showed the texts to Nicky who just smiles in that way he does that means _‘what are you going to do?’_ But then he gets up and rounds the table.

“A picture is worth a thousand words”

He leans in next to Joe and arranges the phone to snap a quick selfie. “Wait” Joe presses his lips to Nicky’s cheek and clicks the button. It’s a good photo, the candlelight showcasing how handsome Nicky looks, how blue his eyes are. “Okay?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Can,” Nicky huffs a shy little laugh, “Would you send it to me, too? _Per favore?”_

He obliges, warm down to his toes and then the phone buzzed again. 

**Quynh: 💖💖💖** Andromache has gone all misty round the eyes

 **Boss:** If Quynh tells you I got teary eyed she is a rotten fucking liar who never dusts. Have fun. You can come for breakfast in the morning. If you’re still hungry that is ;)

“It seems – “Joe has to stop to flex his jaw and pointedly _not_ think about sucking Nicky off, _damn you Andy_ , who the hell taught her about emojis anyway “we have nowhere else to be”

“Good,” Nicky says turning his gaze away from the phone to go back to perusing the menu. “I want to take my time with you” he says, like he’s talking about the weather or something and looks up to catch Joe gaping because - because he’s got to sit through a dinner with the implications of that now and Nicky just smirks.

“So that’s how it is hmm?” He’s incredulous, revelling in all these facets coming out to play at once. It’s a beautiful sight, Nicky on a date, flirting back. With him.

Nicky just hums back sweetly.

Joe knows immediately what form his revenge will take, all of which involves Nicky, naked and wanting and left right on the edge of satisfaction for as long as Joe can keep him there. But he can’t think about that now, because their starters have just turned up and it isn’t very good revenge if all it does is get _him_ hot. Instead, he focuses on the way the candlelight makes Nicky’s eyes gleam, caressing across his hands and lips and thanks his lucky stars. 

“The whole thing was Zara’s idea?” Nicky says after a moment, pointing at where Joe’s phone sits on the table with his fork

“Apparently so. They grow up fast.”

Nicky nods, thoughtfully. Obviously something about that fact has satisfied him. “Oh, well that answers my next question. About whether us being together would be okay with Zara”

“Oh Nicky – you know she loves you” Joe hurries, to assure him. Hadn’t they just talked about this?

“Liking someone and seeing them date your parent can be two different things”

Hmm. “Sometimes” Joe allows, before defending his precocious princess, “But not with Zara. Still,” and he has to laugh, “Betrayed by my own child” he murmurs, wondering how he could have been so lucky as to have been entrusted with his little hurricane.

“She’s very capable” Nicky compliments meekly and it’s painfully sweet, the way Nicky’s reverted to caution when discussing Zara.

Joe just snorts “That’s a very kind way of saying she’s a holy terror” and he salutes Nicky proudly with his glass. But when he puts it down again, he’s contemplative “She’s my Polaris, my North Star. She put me in your orbit after all, _ya amar_ ”

“My orbit?” Nicky asks carefully, obviously thrown by the Arabic.

“You shine as brightly as the moon, Nicolò. Illuminate everything you touch and you never blaze brighter than when things are at their darkest. I couldn’t pull away from you now even if I wanted to.” He holds a hand out for Nicky across the table and it thrills him that Nicky immediately slides his long fingers to entwine with Joe’s own, though his head is ducked down at his plate in shyness.

‘And,’ and now is the time to make sure Nicky knows exactly “and I very much don’t want to.”

The softness in Nicky’s face when he admits this is beautiful, those big eyes completely guileless, mouth ever so slightly open in a soft ‘oh’. All told, he looks a little lost by the strength of Joe’s confession which is fair, considering the emotional rollercoaster the night has been.

“I would despair if you did” Nicky says after a moment and coming from someone else that might have been meant to be flirty, and Nicky can certainly do flirty but there’s only a gravity in his voice. The confession mirrored and returned in his own unique way; that lovely luminescence settling about him.

It’s somehow quite late when they finally take their leave. Katherine hasn’t stopped grinning at them, and from the way she’d called Andy ‘Professor Scythia’, Joe’s got a horrible feeling he knows her from somewhere. But they slip into Joe’s car and he drives them home, hands interwoven on top of the gear stick.

It’s when they pull up outside Joe’s house that the reality sets back, Nicky’s car parked in the plum spot on the driveway, because he’d gotten there first earlier. Joe’s heart does a funny little flip flop in his chest at the sight of it as he pulls in alongside. Maybe that’s just because Nicky will be leaving in a moment and tomorrow the world starts up again. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, come on” Nicky starts briskly, unbuckling his seatbelt. Joe turns to obey, but then he realises what Nicky might have just said and like, he’s a sure thing but he didn’t think that Nicky –

“ _Really?_ Why, _Nicolò”_ he teases, to hide his own eagerness if nothing else, waggling his eyebrows.

He sees the moment Nicky gets it and its almost comical how quickly Nicky’s expression turn from surprise, to desire and finally gets superseded by fond derision as Nicky scrunches his nose at him, “ ** _No_** _, Yusuf,_ not really. I only meant that I was going to see you to the door before I go”

And people call him a romantic. His heart’s doing that flip flop thing again.

“My knight in shining armour” Joe says, meaning to tease at Nicky’s unnecessary chivalry but it comes out as more of a swoon at the romance of it all. And it’s that which gets him a sudden burst of inspiration. His fingers itching for his sketchpad and charcoal at the image of Nicky’s strong face shining under a helmet. Or a painting! He was the perfect model for a knight of old, Joe decided, hoping Nicky would agree to pose for him, he could borrow some props from the drama department –

“Yusuf?” Nicky lightly touches his arm, waving a hand in front of his face, “Hello? Where did you go there?”

“Just had an idea”

Nicky snorts, “Mmmph hmmph I can imagine” he stretches over, heart thrilling when Joe leans over too to meet his kiss, lux and happy. Because they _do that_ now.

Joe plucks at the slim strip of Nicky’s black tie, a little breatheless “You did this on purpose”

“Not at all. Nile said – nevermind, what she said, it’s her you should thank” he shrugs. It was a good suit, all things considered. Not fussy.

“Oh I will” Joe nods seriously. He still hasn’t let go of the tie, voice dipping low in a way that has Nicky swallowing as Joe says, “You should dress like this more often”

“I like my hoodie” Nicky retorted a tad defensively, even as he curled into Joe’s touch. It was warm and soft. It was practical too; it kept him dry and had pockets. And it went with everything.

(Across the city, Nile suddenly remembered that she needed to steal Nicky’s hoodie and burn it)

“Hmm,” Joe’s hand flattens the tie down again, and he glances back up, the corner of his lips tugging upwards and Nicky is in _so much trouble_ “I’m sure I could talk you out of it”

“I think you’re right” Nicky just about manages

“D’you want to come in for a coffee before you go? You did have that glass of wine with your risotto” Joe ducks his head, looking up at Nicky through his eyelashes carefully. He’s thinking about his art, honest.

“I did.” Nicky agrees faintly, “ _Si, sarabbe bello_ ”

That settled, they stumble from the car to the house, Nicky a firm line pressed against Joe’s back as he fumbles with the keys before they’re finally over the threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think?? [Disclaimer: I love immortals in hoodies]
> 
> So vanitas paintings are moralistic paintings about 'the inevitability of death and the transience and vanity of earthly achievements and pleasures' but like, I think Joe would take that and turn it into a sort of cheerful thing about what's important to, and symbolizes the family as individuals in turn, IDK. 
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> Vaffanculo - fuck  
> ya amar - my moon  
> Si, sarabbe bello - yes, that would be nice


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky has opinions about coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried - I cannot write sex scenes so I did as best as I could - for the rest of however long this ends up being, please just assume they have a very active sex life 
> 
> *runs away*  
> *runs back* Thank you as always for your lovely kudos and comments, as always they make me smile  
> *runs away again*

They do actually make coffee.

Well, Joe puts the kettle on, at least, Nicky’s still draped at his back in the bright light of the kitchen, like a cat.

He’s not even doing anything, is the worst thing. Content to just be pressed against Joe’s spine, lips pressed to the nape of Joe’s neck, hands resting on Joe’s stomach. Joe’s body is thrumming already and Nicky’s just holding him.

“You could help you know. Get cups or something” he tsks fondly, maintaining the charade. Just luxuriating in the sensation that is Nicky pressing him close, after all this time. It’s like stumbling out of the desert into an oasis; overstimulating and absolute satisfaction both at once.

Nicky just hums. “Am helping” he manages to say against the mouthful of Joe’s skin, “I’ve got my hands on the washboard” His fingers press, where they’re splayed on Joe’s abdomen. Joe snorts, hanging his head over the countertop at Nicky’s ridiculous sense of humour. He’s such a dork. It’s beautiful.

“That was terrible” he groans, smile widening at the way it makes Nicky’s hands tamp down on his skin suddenly.

“No, what is terrible is that I’m dating a man who does not have a proper coffee maker, you _heathen”_

Joe leans into the soft warmth of it, revelling in the way the fact that Nicky is his boyfriend blooms in his chest, in the same way he leans back into Nicky’s body, hands leaving the coffee things to press over Nicky’s where they’re splayed on his stomach before he teases, turning round in his arms, hands coming up to rest on Nicky’s neck.

“ _Invader!”_ he shoots back, with big wounded eyes, “Coming into my kitchen, insulting my trusty-“

“Rusty” Nicky amends, quick and lethal.

“-kettle, that has seen many a good brew” Joe continues, louder, as if Nicky hasn’t spoken.

“It is a sin, Joe, I’m telling you!” Nicky insists, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice, glaring over Joe’s shoulder as if Russell Hobbs is evil incarnate.

 _God help me_ , Joe thinks, pulling Nicky close to kiss this ridiculous man’s cheeks, his nose, his jaw.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

“Hmm? Oh no,” Joe admits candidly, brightening as he remembers, “I had an idea for a painting. I do want to talk about it with you, it would be you as a knight? I think it would be awesome and of course I wouldn’t exhibit or sell it without your permission” But he doesn’t want to think of Nicky on canvas, when he has the real thing beneath his fingertips, flushed and perfect, that Adam’s apple dancing as Nicky politely tries to steady his breathing. “And – and we’ll talk about it tomorrow-“

“Are we really,” he asks after he’s successfully gotten rid of Nicky’s tie and popped open the collar of that black shirt, exploring which patches of Nicky’s neck make him shudder, “going to have our first fight be about my coffee making capability on our first date?”

“Yes” Nicky exhales, hands continuing their exploration now that the painting conversation has been shelved.

“Petty” Joe brands the word onto Nicky’s throat with his kiss, desire curling in his belly as the moan vibrates through Nicky’s throat beneath his lips.

“No, _amore_ , it’s pronounced ‘pretty’” He’s entirely too coherent for this. Joe pulls away in punishment, raising an eyebrow at Nicky, pleasantly surprised to find those singular eyes are hazy with want.

“Oi! Pick on somebody your own size!”

Nicky raises an eyebrow back at him with the tease of a sharp smile. Which, fair, considering the miniscule height difference between them.

“I am. Or better yet, why don’t I pick **up** somebody my own size?” Nicky waggles his eyebrows briefly, all mischief and then ducks down lightning fast, hands catching the backs of Joe’s thighs and hauling him into his arms. There’s a rush of muscles bunching, the delectable firmness of Nicky’s chest against him and then Joe’s being deposited on the counter.

 _You adorable little shit_ , is the first thing Joe thinks of, even as he spreads his legs to let Nicky slot between them, his legs twining round Nicky’s waist as they watch each other. Then he realises Nicky just picked him up. Just. Easy. _Holy Fuck_. Desire zings white hot up Joe’s spine and he scoots to press flush to Nicky.

“Nicky. Nicky, I need to kiss you like yesterday”

What did Joe ever do to be gifted someone so absolutely sweet and unbearably sexy? He needs to know who to address the gift basket to. He leans in, kisses Nicky, close mouthed and quick, so he can soften the next bit, so Nicky knows he’s all in. Except it inevitably turns into licking hungry into Nicky’s mouth, learning the shape of each other’s mouth, hot and soft.

“We have to find another word than boyfriend, habibi” he manages eventually.

“Is that not what we are?” Nicky seeks his mouth, but cruelly does not kiss him, just traces the words over his mouth.

“Technically” Joe wrinkles his nose, hands fisting in Nicky’s collar. “It’s...semantics. The word’s not big enough for – you’re better than that. You’re much more important than that. I need a word to match”

“Well,” Nicky traces a hand over Joe’s knee, “Let’s start simple and work our way up” and when Joe nods, he kisses him again, lush and lax, pressing close. Joe presses his hands down Nicky’s neck, trails along his shoulders and waist until they come to rest on the swell of Nicky’s ass.

“Will you stay?” Joe asks, when he can bear to catch his breath. “We don’t have to do anything, but I don’t want you to go” he laughs gently at his own nervousness, standing again on that precipice outside the restaurant “Now that I can hold you the way I want, I never want to let you go. Do you want to stay? Let me hold you?”

Nicky’s own smile is blinding in return, hair flopping in his eyes, catching on his eyelashes. He brushes it back and that _shouldn’t_ be sexy.

“Yes please, Joe. I can stay. I do have to get up early though, for my shift” he warns, in case that’s a deal breaker. Which…it would be for anyone else. Joe is not a morning person. But he is a Nicky person.

“Not a problem” It’s a complete and utter lie, but some lies are sanctioned by heaven because he also wants to hold Nicky more than anything. And it’s not a problem for him. It’s a problem for Future Joe.

“I’ll believe that when I see it” Nicky teases, before his expression grows shy, and a little pink? ” But if you wanted – we could – do sexy holding too?”

A laugh startles out of Joe at that one.

“Yes, please, Nicky. We can absolutely do sexy holding” and he slips his hands down to palm Nicky’s perfect ass properly, a jolt of desire behind his navel as Nicky’s hips can’t forward, grinding into Joe’s own. _“Nicky”_

“I don’t need the coffee if I’m not driving” Nicky muttered.

“Nope” Joe slipped from the counter, taking Nicky’s hand and tugging him from the kitchen. Nicky chases him up the stairs and they get through the bedroom door at least before Nicky nearly pushes Joe back out to the hallway as he slams Joe up against the wood of the door, claiming his mouth.

He hums, pushing Nicky’s jacket from his shoulders, can feel Nicky’s hardness against him through the suit’s trousers, matching his own.

“Joe” Nicky whines in the back of his throat, “Please”

“Mmmph, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you. Wanted you for so long. Since the day we met”

“ _Joe”_ Nicky’s mouth is hot and generous over Joe’s, “Can I-“ he plucks at Joe’s jacket and collar

“Have at it, _ya amar_ ”

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten naked so fast in his life. He manoeuvres Nicky to the bed and follows when the other man lays down, clambering atop him. Nicky is beautiful, obviously, a perfect canvas of pale skin peppered with moles and Joe wants to kiss every inch, run his tongue along those hipbones, feel those strong thighs around him.

Nicky reached for him, telegraphing his intentions as he reached out and laid a palm flat on Joe’s chest amid the light dusting of chest hair, trailed down to his abdomen, “ _Dio_ ”

Joe leans over him, dropping kisses as he goes, continuing his work of earlier from Nicky’s clavicle to his stomach, little butterfly kisses and bites that soon has Nicky writhing underneath him. “Joe. Joe. Yusuf, _il mio sole, please_ ”

“ _Il tuo sole?”_ Joe pulls away, nipping at Nicky’s throat when he whines at the loss. Nicky must have googled the Arabic in the car.

“ _Si_ ” Nicky pants, head hitting the pillow, “ _Cosi caloroso_ ” something glints in his eyes, “ _Molto caldo_ ”

Joe barks a laugh and leans down, presses a kiss to Nicky’s hipbone, nosing down towards his cock.

“Joe, Joe, **fuck** – _fuck me_ ”

“Hang on” Joe ends up having to climb off Nicky to reach the stuff and spends five minutes rootling through the bedframe’s storage drawers until he finds the right well hidden box. “Consequences of having a child” he explains, “We’ve had conversations about privacy and she’s really good about it, but I worry all the same. Right!” he declares setting the lube and condoms on the bedside table, in easy reach. “Back to the whole ravishing you thing”

Nicky chuckles, _the little shit,_ and holds out a hand decadently to help Joe back onto the bed.

“I’m glad I amuse you my love” he grouses, though he notices the way Nicky’s eyes soften at the endearment, “Now are you going to come here or not?”

“I expect so” Nicky deadpans, stopping stroking himself and reaching for Joe’s hips.

****

Nicky wakes up in a strange bed, pressed into someone’s embrace and it’s been a while so he does sort of panic a bit. He’s a light sleeper, has been ever since the Church and it comes in handy for the early shifts he takes nowadays, the changes in the rota. And then he inhales and the scent of Joe’s unmistakeable cologne fills his nostrils and the world slots back into place.

Joe’s house. Joe’s bed. Joe’s embrace.

He wriggles happily, burrowing deeper (just for a second, one treasured second) wanting to remember the feeling of finally knowing what is to be with Joe, to wake up beside him. How Joe has curled around him in the night, at his back, the prickle of sensation from Joe’s beard on the back of his neck, their legs tangled together. Okay. Okay, getting up now. If he gets up now, he can get back to his flat; shower and change and make it to work.

He tries to gently extricate himself from Joe’s hold but it seems that is what causes Joe to stir, tightening his arms around Nicky. “No” Joe tells the back of his neck. “Sleep.”

Nicky chuckles and manages to wriggle round enough so that he’s facing Joe. His lover is beautiful like this, mouth lax, but the tiniest pucker between his eyebrows, betraying that he is in fact awake and not happy to be so. Nicky lays a hand on his cheek, working his fingers through the fuzz of Joe’s beard. Not a problem indeed. He at least wants to say goodbye sufficiently.

“Tesoro? Tesoro” he tries more firmly, coaxing Joe to open his eyes. “Joe, beloved,” and he’s not thinking about how easy and right they have slipped into a litany of endearments, how that makes him light up inside, “I have to go to work”

One brilliant eye opens, bleary. “Early”

“Yes, we discussed that”

“Work from here”

He kisses Joe’s nose. This erudite, beautiful scholar is fluffy and silly in the mornings. “While having a bed involved normally makes things easier, the Code of Conduct frowns upon me getting into bed with patients”

“Broken heart syndrome. Recommended treatment: bed rest with sexy paramedic” Joe quips, sounding more awake, hand bracing on Nicky’s hip. “Good morning, sweet one” he hums, voice rough and leaning forward for a kiss.

“Good morning” Nicky murmurs, trying to remember why he should care about getting fired as they pull apart.

“Okay” Joe coughed, “You go shower, I’ll put on my _mediocre_ coffee and would you like to borrow some clothes?”

Nicky nods at him wide eyed, how Joe has managed to provide for his immediate needs in a single sentence. Something about orbits and the sun and the moon. Joe smiles at him and kicks off the duvet but before Nicky can completely derail himself at the sight of Joe, gloriously naked in the morning light, he swings round and stands up, pulling Nicky upright at the same time.

It’s going to be a cold shower, definitely.

When he makes it downstairs after a long enough shower that Joe has to know what Nicky had been doing in there, damp but clean, wearing a t-shirt of Joe’s that pretty much fits him and a pair of pants that don’t, really, it’s to reveal toast and a thermos.

“You didn’t have to do all this, my love. You could have gone back to bed”

Joe shakes his head around a mouthful of coffee. “It’s nothing.” He’s right, it is everything “Besides, fajir is in a few hours and then I’ve got to get ready for work and pick up Zara. Now, got everything? It looks like it’s raining, so you’’ have to borrow a coat too”

Joe gestures to a pile of navy fabric on the counter.

“Here, hold your arms out” He guides the jacket onto Nicky’s arms, settling it about his shoulders, then something soft lands on Nicky’s head.

It’s a hoodie.

“Yusuf” This incredibly sweet man, the words sound muffled to Nicky’s ears under the hoodie. It’s soft and warm and smells of Joe. He’s never going to be able to give it back. Nicky shoves his hands in the pockets, wriggling it over his shoulders’ properly and jumps.

“It’s fluffy!” he cries raptly, hands twisting into the silky fleece lining of the pockets, looking at Joe. Joe grins at him, crinkly eyed, the way he does when Zara’s being particularly cute.

“Yes, my precious one, it is. And in the hood too. It will keep you dry and warm when I cannot” Joe murmurs reaching out to grab the sides of the hoodie and leans in to kiss Nicky, the way the navy colour makes Nicky’s eyes pop. 

When Joe finally leans out of Nicky’s car and shuts the door, waving as he pulls away, Nicky’s smile feels like it’s going to crack his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (if anything is wrong, as always, please tell me):  
> il mio sole - my sun  
> Il tuo sole - your sun?  
> Cosi caloroso - So warm  
> Molto caldo - Very hot
> 
> I'm sure Russell Hobbs is perfectly adequate kitchenware I just picked it at random


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zara gets carried everywhere because she is a little Queen and Booker gets caught having feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its strange, sometimes, knowing what goes in a chapter and not being able to find a way into it. I wasn’t sure who the start of this chapter belonged to, but surprisingly it turns out it belongs to Booker. And then Zara darted in front, just real quick. Anyway here is the family fluff back now that 2/3 couples are actually together now. 
> 
> Also, Booker has some mild feelings of self loathing and is critical of himself, but the others are there to love him.
> 
> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and kind support of this fic, its just a lot of domestic family fluff atm but the plot is slowly creeping back in
> 
> EDIT: I put the rating up to Explicit because of the last chapter - I hope that's right. I also rewrote some of Chapter 7 and the vast majority of Chapter 6 (I added to it, rather than taking anything out, because I wanted to improve the pacing so hopefully that's better)

“Baba!” Zara cries from under Andy’s arm when she opens the door to their loft. Thankfully, she’s already dressed in her school uniform, which Andy must have liberated from the house at some point last night. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed at her thoroughness, because they live in each other’s pockets as it is and he really didn’t fancy dragging Zara home to change and then racing to the school gates.

“Habibti!” he scoops her up, kissing her cheek and breathing her in. _Little hurricane._ “Did you have fun with your aunties?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Yeah! We played Living Room Laser Tag.”

Ah, of course.

“And were you good for Mrs. Stuart?” for all of the fifteen minutes she was probably there while Andy lost Joe and Nicky. He hasn’t forgotten the way his kindly old neighbour was in on this scheme too. He’s usually a much better judge of character.

“As good as gold and better!” Zara informs him solemnly.

Joe raises an eyebrow at her “Mmmph-hmmm. Lies come off the tongue as toads but honey is for princesses who tell the truth” he reminds her, laughing when she sticks her tongue out.

“No Toh-ads, thee?”

“Only honey. Good as gold indeed, my love” he grins nuzzling at her face and tickling his beard over her smooth skin. He’s already resolved to go to the stupidly big toy store when he picks her up from school. Helping your parent end up with the man of his dreams didn’t exactly turn up in any of the parenting forums as deserving positive reinforcement, but Joe’s too happy to care.

“Did you and Nicky have fun?” Zara asks politely as he carries her inside and he swears he sees Andy’s ears perk up out of the corner of his eye. Quynh, watching from the open kitchen, abandons the eggs she’s frying.

“Yes, and he wanted to come and have breakfast with us but he had to go to work super-early” He pointedly does not look at either of the women, because he can feel their eyes burning a hole in his collarbone, where one of Nicky’s kisses still sits. “Go get your stuff, okay? We’ll have to leave straight after breakfast”

Once Zara’s out of earshot, he rounds on Andy and Quynh, “And as for you two. I had to **chase after** Nicolò in the restaurant due to your little con!"

"It was Zara’s idea!" Quynh retorts defensively, 

"Yes," Joe snorts, "and she’s eight. Zara’s version of last night would have involved tricking Nicky into coming over for dinner and then disappearing up to her room, not setting us up at a restaurant dressed to the nines, and arranging a wild goose chase with you lot!"

"She’s a very gifted child" Andy retorts, with a proud sniff. 

"Mmphmm" Joe says, fighting to keep the smile off his face, and failing miserably. "Meddling kids aside …thank you” He scoops Andy up, growling and advances toward Quynh who meets him halfway, throwing herself at two of the people she loves best with such enthusiasm that they almost topple over. "Never ever do it again" he warns them, voice low but fiercely joyful.

Zara stops inside the doorway of the guest bedroom, feeling sick to her stomach as she heard Baba telling her aunties off. She can't see him, but he sounds angry. And it was her idea. _Uh oh_. Was Baba angry with her?

"Zara?" he called after a moment and she has no choice but to go back through. She trails hesitantly across the floor. Baba and Auntie Andy are standing nearby, getting ready for breakfast and Auntie Quynh's headed back to the stove. Oh well. Best do as Auntie Andy's always saying and 'face the music'. She tugs on the bottom of Baba's shirt until he looks down at her.

"Habibti?"

"Are you angry with me? I’m sorry Baba-"

"What? " Baba's eyebrow's scrunch up and he looks at the aunts, all puzzled before he takes her hands in his, kneeling down so he's her height. "Oh no, honey. I'm not angry. But thank you apologising. Nicky and I were just surprised is all"

"Oh." That's when Zara remembers the picture Auntie Andy had showed her from last night, of Baba kissing Nicky's cheek and she cheers up, "So, are you boyfriend and boyfriend now?"

Baba's face does a funny flutter, but he still looks happy. "Ye-es.."

"Good." Zara nods, "Because I just want you to be happy"

She doesn't know what she's said, but suddenly, Baba still looks a little sad. He cups her cheek, "You make me happy, habibti"

"Yes" Zara says, with great patience, pushing a curl out of her eyes. "But happy with Nicky. Like in the fairytales"

Baba's face crinkles into that lovely big smile he does. "Oh, Princess. Yes. I think I’m going to be" and then he gives her a big cuddle. 

So that’s good too.

****

 **Quynh:** About last night…

 **Quynh:** In the interests of sisterly love and the complete honesty I am now foresworn to, Joe, I forgot to tell you it was Nile’s idea to do Zara’s plan

 **Nile:** QUYNH

 **Nile:** IT WAS NOT

 **Quynh:** Was too

 **Nile:** WAS NOT

Given Joe’s silence in the group chat, Booker was quietly hoping their meddling had gone over well. What he did not expect was for Joe to sidle into his office, obviously well fucked, with a hickey just about visible on his collarbone from where he keeps pulling his shirt collar down to rub his hand over the spot, smiling dreamily like his team has just won football for the next 500 years.

It’s gone very well, then.

“Hot date was it?” Booker looks up from his phone – Nile’s now taken to texting him under the table from her seminar, which is a fact he will not be sharing with Joe, even though the man knows that Nile could run rings around the speaker he insisted she go and see – grinning at him.

“How’d you - You don’t even work here!” Joe cries, jabs a finger at where Booker’s lounging in his desk chair, splay legged. Behind Joe, Quynh snickers, hiding her smile behind her hand. He is, as always absolutely right. But the rest of them do. He’s been thinking about changing jobs just because.

A shrug slips off Booker’s shoulders, “You never call, you never write…”

“Who let you in here?” Joe asks, trying to sounding shocked and only coming across as impressed.

“You’re saying that like I’ve never picked a lock before”

Nile had let him in, on the promise he be on his best behaviour but he wasn’t about to let Joe know that. She’d gotten it into her head to be worried that Joe might drop her as supervisor for her part in getting Joe and Nicky together. As she’d put it ‘we’re right, but they have the right to be pissed that we waded in’ too. And Quynh, in that chaotic way she had, had decided to out Nile’s part in the plan and get it over with.

Joe pauses, thrown by the reference and Booker sees the moment he remembers that time they’d had to – ‘let themselves in’ - to his sister’s house in Nice in 2002. But to be fair, he’d forgotten his keys and she was in Paris for a girl’s weekend so it was his own fault, really.

“Don’t think nostalgia will save you” Joe threatens, jabbing another finger at him, but this time he’s smiling. “Yes,” he sniffs, as if he isn’t sporting an impressive hickey he can’t stop touching, “in answer to your original question, we had a wonderful evening”

Bless Joe really. They’re all stupidly smug about it. When Andy had forwarded that picture of Joe and Nicky, Joe’s lips pressed to Nicky’s cheek, outshining the candlelight, Booker and Nile hadn’t been able to resist toasting their glasses to a job well done. So if Joe’s expecting mercy now in the cold light of day, he’s shit out of luck on that front. Nile’s the nice one and she’s in class. He should’ve filmed this; she’ll be pissed she missed Joe’s reaction. Although no doubt she’ll roast Joe in her own way once she gets out of that seminar and he reassures her he’s not going to forsake her.

Joe shrugs out of his satchel, handsome face exasperated “And, look I love you all, but ambushing Nicky and I like that?”

Merde, Nile _was_ right.

Booker turns to Quynh who just shrugs. Clearly she and Andy had already gotten this particular version of the Riot Act read to them.

“Well, worked didn’t it?” _Results are results_ , Booker thought, a little cavalier

“That’s not the point, Book!” And Joe’s frown only deepens. One day, just one day maybe, Booker’s going to learn to keep his mouth shut. “What if you had been wrong – what if Nicky wasn’t ready for a relationship? I mean,” Joe scrubs a hand over his face and gives himself a little shake.

“Obviously, I am deliriously happy that Nicky feels the same way as I do, and that we are together now but don’t ever do that to us again, please”

“Now that you two are together, we won’t have to” Quynh reminds him peaceably, clever woman that she is, at the same time as Booker absolutely word vomits

“That’s a bit fast isn’t it?”

Joe and Quynh turn to stare at him. Booker feels his skin heat up, cursing his complete lack of tact. Being honest about his feelings does not equal the right to rain on Joe’s parade. Still, one date and they’re dating?

“We want to be together. Wasn’t that the reason for this whole scheme – or did you assume we just needed to get it out of systems, hmm?” Joe shoots back coolly, shrugging out of his jacket to hang it up, though his eyes don’t leave Booker.

For himself, Booker shifts in his chair, sitting up straight. “No! No, of course not. Shit, I’m sorry Joe – I know this thi- your _relationship”_ he manages to correct himself just in time, “with Nicky is serious, otherwise we wouldn’t have done what we did to encourage you with it.”

He heaves a deep sigh. Just because Booker lives his life a certain way, doesn’t mean he should measure Joe or Nicky by the same. God, it’d be nice if could he get through one day without not cocking things up, royally.

“I’m happy for you both, honestly.” And he is, “I am. You young people move too fast for me, that’s all. I’m horrendously old fashioned, you know that”

Sabine had always mocked him for it, though she had secretly like it, at least in the beginning. Said he would have been more at home growing up with the Romantics. He smiles self-deprecatingly and Joe smiles back, because he is too kind, in his happiness.

“Yes, yes you’re a whole year older than me, you’re practically decrepit with your chivalry and your big blue eyes” Joe stretches out a hand, and Booker clasps it, shoulders dropping as Joe pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you for what you did. And you don’t have to worry, mon frère. I’m a big boy”

“Yeah, yeah” Booker chuckles gruffly, but his fingers dig into Joe’s shoulder blades all the same. Holds him close. Nicky is a good man. He’s joined their little family like he was always meant to be there. And now, he and Joe…they fit. There’s no way this isn’t going to work out. But sometimes Booker looks at Joe and sees the little brother who’d held his new-born baby girl like she’d just dropped out of heaven into his arms. Who’d stood on his doorstep a year later, in the middle of the night, clutching Zara to his hip, eyes as big as saucers as he told Booker that her mother was dead. In Genoa, it had been just them; himself, Joe and Marina. The three musketeers. And then…even with the others around them, it had been Joe and Booker who had lost her hardest. But Joe was also the one who’d scraped him off the floor the night Sabine had left him, had said they’d stagger through this grief together and then taken most of the weight anyway.

He couldn’t do that to Joe again.

They let each other go, and Joe pats his cheek. “Now get out of here, I’ve got classes to teach and you have a job to go to as well.”

Booker just shrugs, non-committal. He’d taken the morning off, Copley was used to him swanning in and out. But he steps away, ready to make the commute across the city. He didn’t count on Quynh, which looking back, was downright stupid but hey, what else is new? She muttered something about being right back, walking him out, and then she had her hand under his elbow and was steering him out into the corridor. She stays with him, all the way out, until they’re standing in the university’s main lobby, bubbling with noise from the café and throngs of students changing classes.

“I’m sorry, Quynh, really I didn’t mean- “

She spun to face him, holding up a hand. “You do not need me to sugar coat it. Joe and Nicky have seized their chance for happiness. And Sebastien all we want, all we hope for, is for you to do the same”

Booker doesn’t do Quynh the disservice of playing dumb and asking who in their right mind he could ever hope would want to take _him_ on.

Andy’s words from last night have been haunting him, ever since she’d whispered them in his ear. “ _I’d forgotten how much love suits you, Book”_

He glances over Quynh’s head, but thankfully Nile is nowhere in sight. “I’m too old for her”

Quynh just raises one perfect eyebrow, “You’re _34,_ Booker”

“Practically decrepit” he parrots. A full eight years older. Quynh smacks his arm, and then something comical happens. Quynh’s eyes widens and she goes from shock to smugness strangely fast.

“Oh yes? Tell her that” she crooks a finger over his shoulder and Booker spins to find Nile standing behind them, one hand on her book bag, the other hugging books to her chest. She is beautiful, hair in two buns, a lavender bomber jacket he bought her last birthday and skinny charcoal jeans, the tank top and press of the books doing wonderful things to her cleavage.

“Hey Book,” she quirks an eyebrow, laughing at him and _merde,_ he’s a goner, if that wasn’t obvious “You forget about brunch?”

****

“I’ll go,” Joe says, the moment the doorbell sounds on family dinner night, knowing it’ll be Nicky. Its Friday, the week after their date and Nicky has been cruelly kept away from him by night shifts. By Wednesday, the missed calls and ill aligned texts had proven too much and Joe had asked Nicky if could stay over Friday night, since he had the weekend off. And now, knowing Nicky’s just on the other side of the door has him impatient to hold Nicky once more. “Booker you’re in charge, don’t let them blow anything up” he waggles an accusing finger at Andy and Quynh.

Zara and Nile, playing some sort of clapping game, where Zara is perched on top of one of the kitchen counters, snicker conspiratorially at their exemption.

Joe jogs out into the corridor, ignoring how he fumbles the locks as he flings open the door. Nicky beams at him from the other side, devastating in the honeyed evening light. “Buonasera, Yusuf” he rasps and Joe’s knees buckle.

“ _Nicolò_ ” he reaches greedily for the other man, who reaches back with mutual urgency, immediately into his embrace, twines one arm around Joe’s shoulders, the other cupping the back of his head.

“ _Yusuf”_

Joe tugs Nicky firmly inside. When they pull away, Nicky quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I could not let you stand around on the street, dressed like _that”_ he admits, eyes dragging up Nicky’s body. Underneath the hoodie that Joe had given him last week, the curves of Nicky’s body stand out delectably under a t-shirt that actually fits, snugly outlining Nicky’s waist and pectorals, and pants which strain sinfully over his thighs. Nicky twists to look at himself, giving Joe a millisecond of seeing how well the trousers showcase Nicky’s ass.

It’s a good job Nicky’s a paramedic so he can attend the accidents he’s caused wandering about looking the way he does

“I know the t-shirt shrunk in the wash but I look the same as always?”

“Precisely. How am I supposed to sit through dinner without tasting the supple divinity of your skin?” He steps closer, inclining his head to Nicky’s own, orbiting the movement.

“And what about me?” Nicky replies, voice husky and oh, they will have to explore this later, because Nicky has always praised his eloquence but it seems he likes it when Joe talks “How am I supposed to cope, when your voice is so rich in my ear and I can have this beneath my hands?”

They’re chest to chest now, practically, speaking into each other’s mouths, yet not actually kissing, dancing along the knife’s edge.

“Because my love, I cannot ravish you on the dining room table during family dinner. It’s no use, you’ll have to go hide in the bedroom” Joe exclaimed dramatically 

Nicky snorted but when he spoke it was polite, “May I kiss you hello now, amore?” Joe nodded heart fluttering as Nicky closed the distance, sipping at Joe’s lips, one hand on his jaw. And well, if Joe’s hands strayed downwards to palm Nicky’s ass, well he’s only human after all.

“You are a rotten tease, amore mio” Nicky breathes, thumbing across Joe’s cheeks even as he rocks his hips forward into Joe, whose breath hitches.

“Joe, if you eat now you won’t be hungry later!” Quynh sing-songs from the kitchen, because she knows precisely what he’ll be doing. The amount of innuendos flying around above Zara’s head the past two months has grown terribly. Nicky pulled away, swallowing with a click, eyes hazy and lips pink and plump from where Joe has been nibbling at him. He looks so blissed out, it’s intoxicating. But then Joe looks closer.

He knows Nicky’s face quite well, and he knows this is how Nicky looks when he’s just about ready to drop off, lazing in the sun in Hyde Park that one weekend, or rubbing his eyes as he scouts along his bookshelves for that book he thought Joe would like. The dark circles under his eyes are darker still, practically purple and in the hallway light, with no shadows to hide in.

Joe cups Nicky’s cheek, traces a thumb, feather light in the hollow under Nicky’s left eye “Nico, you’re exhausted. You didn’t have to traipse all of the way here for us!”

“I wanted to see you. Wanted you to hold me tonight, after a week of night shifts I wanted the warmth of my sunlight”

He’s never going to be able to say no to this man, is he? “And there is nothing I want more, but right now, my lovely Endymion, you should rest. Do you want to go lie down before dinner? Or I can bring you something later, after everyone is gone and you can just sleep?”

Nicky shakes his head. “It’s manageable. I will stay with you, just don’t ask me to do any backflips. I feel better already” He smiles valiantly and Joe has to kiss him again.

“Baba? Oncle Book says can you- “the sound of Zara’s voice has Nicky breaking the kiss and stumbling away from Joe’s embrace like he’s been electrocuted.

“Nicky!”

Before Joe can ask either of them what the matter is, a Zara sized missile has target locked onto Nicky and zoomed through the corridor. Before Joe could do anything, Zara was hugging Nicky’s legs like her life depended on it. As Nile would say: cuteness overload.

“Hello principessa” Nicky bends to hug Zara in return, carefully folding her much slighter frame into his arms, immediately distracting them both from her interrupting their kiss. Joe’s heart aches at the sight. Nicky takes such care with her, immediately hides his tiredness to engage with her, smile wide and soft. She makes the universal gesture for ‘up’, hands reaching for Nicky’s shoulders, and he swings her into his arms without complaint. Joe’s heart is doing flip flops and the only thing keeping him sane is the weight of Nicky’s backpack in his hand. Zara and Nicky’s particular bond is not precisely new, it’s just that it’s starting to feed another terrible, quiet hope in Joe’s heart. One he had only ever dared to look at out of the corner of his eye.

She plucks at a drawstring of their hoodie, “This is Baba’s”

“I stole it” Nicky confides into Zara’s curls and making her giggle. Joe raises an eyebrow, lips ticking upwards at the blatant admission. Unlike the rest of Joe’s clothes, he’d borrowed that morning, the hoodie had never reappeared, “It looks better on me, anyway” he tells her, completely seriously and the butterflies behind Joe’s sternum squirm at the curve of Nicky’s own smile. He really is going to kill him. Nice and slow, too.

“Joe, amore?” Nicky’s voice cuts through his reverie, plaintive and perfect. It’s a moment when Nicky has Zara settled on his hip, her head tucked into the crook of his neck that Joe suddenly realises he’s been staring. Two pairs of eyes; one the colour of the ocean, the other like the forest on a summer’s day, watch him with interest

“Right beside you, beloved” he says, curving a hand to lie on the small of Nicky’s back, steering him into the house. He’s taken to trying out different endearments of his own over the past week, and that is one of his favourites for either of them to use. There’s something of a timeless clarity about it. “Zara, why don’t you sit with Nicky in the living room and tell him you did at school today?”

Even as Nicky expresses his typical temperate enthusiasm for the idea, he shoots Joe a dirty look to go with his dirty tactics of essentially ensuring Nicky is forced to sit and rest before dinner anyway. He’ll take his vengeance later, no doubt and Joe is looking forward to it. Joe winks back, striding off back to the steamy kitchen, rubbing his hands in glee, “Right, Book, what’s the problem?”

****

Nile had tapped in on the distracting Zara and letting Nicky take it easy front when Joe had come back to find Zara sitting on Nicky’s lap, talking a mile a minute. Except Nile’s idea of burning off Zara’s energy was an impromptu dance party in the living room, so Nicky had taken over quietly watching the dinner while Joe, Nile and Quynh were jiving round the living room with Zara. Booker had made the mistake of going through to tell them all it would be ready soon.

“The kitchen is the safe zone! The kitchen is the safe zone!” Booker insisted clinging to the doorframe, dragging himself – and therefore Nile – through to where Nicky and Andy were safely ensconced away from the dance party. Nile gave an impressive pout and straightened up, her hands falling to her own hips as Booker scurried to stand behind Nicky, twisting him so that the Italian was between Nile and Booker.

“Booker,” Andy snickered, “Are you using Nicky as a human shield?”

“He’ll be fine” Booker muttered, not taking his eyes off Nile

“Just for that I feel like we should exile you from the ‘safe zone’ for the time being” Nicky twisted away back to his frying pan, swatting at Booker with his wooden spoon, so Booker has to dance, backwards to avoid being splattered by the sauce “Away with you”

“Nile _, mon tresor, sil te plaît_ have mercy on an old man _”_

“If you’re old, I must be ancient” Andy mutters pointedly into her glass.

Nile snorts, “Okay, Booker, you have got to drop the old man excuse. I mean, look at you” she waves a hand at the white shirt he wears, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Booker looks down at himself before returning to Nile’s face, floundering.

“One, you are not that much older than me and two, you are in your prime, okay. One stretch too far could easily pop those buttons” Booker goes the colour of a fire engine, but Nile ploughs on none the wiser, “Elenore and Dizzy have _both_ separately told me they would climb you like a tree, except y’know Dizzy’s still deployed, but Elenore’s certainly available and – “

“I don’t want Elenore” Booker interrupts quickly at the mention of her flatmate, sounding strangled, “Or Dizzy”

“Oh” Nile swallows and Booker’s eyes track the movement, “Oh, well good. Not for them, obviously but yes,”

Andy catches Nicky’s eye, and grins at him. The spoon in Nicky’s hand slips from his grasp slowly back into the pan, and she watches with glee as he realises what’s happening in front of them. In the living room, the song changes and Nile seems to come back to herself a little, “I’m going to dance” she turns and as the three of them watch, she throws herself towards Joe, who catches her hands and they immediately start singing the lyrics at each other.

They lean in view of the doorway for a moment, just watching Joe, Nile and Quynh as they dance with Zara. “At least our respective loves can dance, because I haven’t got a clue” Nicky confides

Booker hums in agreement, and _Nicky you bastard,_ Andy thinks proudly. Booker jumps in realisation, the words sinking in, stuttering as he tries to formulate an excuse but Nicky just smiles softly.

“That is something I think Nile deserves to hear from you, when you are ready. We won’t interfere. _Will we Andromache_?”

“If I say no, you’ll stop bringing me baklava won’t you?”

Nicky nods, and yup, he might be adorable but he’s a little shit. “God, you and Joe deserve each other” she groans, just as Joe taps out, meandering back into the kitchen to find out if dinner’s ready yet. Which of course just makes Nicky go all moony eyed, leaning into Joe’s arms as the other man comes up behind him, and murmuring god only knows what in soft Italian in his ear.

“Aww” Nile coos, switching off the music and fetching plates when Nicky declares the pasta cooked. Nile had gone from worried to full on ‘shipper mode’ whatever that was, according to Booker, about ten minutes after Joe had managed to get her to stop apologising.

“They’re as bad as you two” Booker groans, watching the other two men but the pleased twist of his lips shows he’s teasing.

“F-excuse you,” Andy catches herself so she doesn’t upset little ears, “they’re worse”

“They’re new” Quynh counters

“They’re listening” Joe grouses but soon stops when Nicky stops doling out the chicken alfredo to kiss him soundly, focusing instead on the higher pleasure of pressing back into the touch of Nicky’s soft mouth. Except Zara trots into view and he pulls back sharply, going back to filling up plates with gusto.

Hmm.

Is – Joe casts a look at Nicky, who is plating up and digging out cutlery with unerring focus, cheeks dusted pink in a way that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the hot kitchen – he is! There’s that shyness again. Because Zara’s caught them kissing?!

He’s going to have nip whatever this is in the bud because he hopes on kissing Nicky a lot. A _lot._

But not now, not tonight. Tonight, he just wants to bask in this bliss, where time seems to have tapped him on the shoulder so he could recognise the strange perfection of this moment, where everything has aligned in the bustle of their family as Booker carries far too many plates to the table and Nile is dancing around him, filling glasses, while Quynh rescues the bread that everyone else has forgotten from the oven and Andy is already putting the pans to soak. And Nicky, his eye in the storm, just leads him to the table as if they’ve all been doing this for a thousand years.

Joe’s heart is so full, so grateful, it feels like will crack his chest, satisfaction seeping into his bones and making him lighter than air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fairytale Joe references to Zara is about two sisters - one who always told the truth and honey dripped off her tongue, and one who told lies and spouted toads. At least, that's the version I read but google reveals the most common version is called Diamonds and Toads.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zara and the Best Weekend Ever. AKA, Nicky comes to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the delay with this chapter! It’s partly because life, partly, to quote Lara Croft: ‘I woke up one day and just HATED everything’ so completely rewrote it. IDK why this fic turned so chronological but anyway: fluff. Fluff. Tiny bit of actual plot. More fluff. Tiny bit of (my attempt at) smut at the end (if that is not your cup of tea, it starts after the line ‘Shower with me?’ right near the end) 
> 
> I also rewrote the vast majority of Chapter 6 – the pace is essentially the same but if you want something extra to read, that’s there too!
> 
> I think this is very much Joe’s story overall, he’s the one I find I default to in terms of narrator, but this is very much Nicky’s chapter with a bit of Book of Nile in the middle. I’ve updated the tags and will continue to do so 
> 
> I am so grateful for the love, kudos and comments you've given to this fic - I'm trying to get better at replying but please know how much each and every one has made me smile. Thank you.

Nicky’s in heaven.

Heaven is firm and soft and smells like Joe.

“Nico”

It sounds like Joe too. Definitely heaven. He suspected as much. “Nico,” Joe chuckles, from somewhere above him and the loveliness of the sensation reverberates through him, which gives Nicky a distant hint of another type of pleasure. There’s a gentle pressure in his hair sending tingles down his spine too. As if someone’s carding their fingers through it, right to the sweet spot at the base of his skull that just completely kills him. Humming in pleasure, Nicky buries his face in the soft material of whatever cloud God has placed him upon.

Joe laughs again, there’s a line of feather-light sensation dragging down his cheek now, “Habibi, come on. Nicolò, destati. Destati”

“He’s _adorable,”_ Nile says, from somewhere beside Joe.

“It’s...like a cat in sunlight” Quynh’s laugh, floating around him.

“I can feel myself getting a cavity”

Booker’s getting a cavity? In heaven?

“Ow! Okay - Jesus, Andy, get off - I give, he’s a very cute Italian kitty, ow!”

Nicky comes back to earth, suddenly stepping into consciousness to find he’s been snuggling into Joe’s moss green sweater-clad stomach, head pillowed in his lap on the sofa. Peering upward, reveals Joe smiling down at him, those obsidian eyes twinkling. Joe’s hand cradles his cheek “There you are. Hi, sweetheart”

The night comes rushing back; family dinner and then Joe had put on _Beauty and the Beast_ for Zara before bedtime. Zara had kept turning around, beaming at them all to see if they’re enjoying Belle’s adventures as much as she was, and it was incredibly cute. And then the cuteness had become crippling when the titular song had started up and Angela Langsbury was singing. Because Joe had eased himself out of Nicky’s arms and bowed, with great ceremony to Zara, asking his little princess to dance. Nile had taped them on her phone, though there had been a sadness to her face as she’d done so. But even with the swelling of the musical numbers, Nicky’s been so wiped out by this past week he’d found his eyelids drooping. He must have dropped off.

_Cazzo_

The realisation, that he must have essentially draped himself over Joe, in front of Zara no less, has Nicky stammering to apologise for the presumption, jerking away to right himself. Unfortunately, this is not his sofa and he misjudges it, toppling off the sofa with a thud. It’s more the shock than anything else as Nicky lands hard on one side, knee and forearm catching most of the impact. Bless Joe for investing in thick rugs for his hardwood flooring.

“Nicky!” Joe and Andy, hurtle forward anyway to lean over him. “God, are you alright? You’re not hurt are you?”

Nicky shakes his head, wishing the floor would swallow him up. “No. Just sad at being cast out of heaven” He waves a hand distractedly at Joe’s soft sweater and the gorgeous muscles hidden beneath that he had only just begun to reacquaint himself with.

“Oh _mon Dieu”_ Booker groans. Because Nicky had referenced Joe’s abs as being divine. Out loud. Hadn’t he just berated himself for ending up in Joe’s lap in the first place?!

In his defence, it has been a very long week and he is very sleepy and his boyfriend is insanely hot. Plus, he’d only just come back to the land of the living, so to speak. But still…he chances a look at Joe’s face and sees only a surprised thrill in the crease of Joe’s eyebrows, the quirk of his mouth, all pink and lovely and tragically un-kissed of late.

“Technically you fell” Joe teases, relaxing back into the sofa a little, still grinning.

Which, hang on, if he’s going to use _that_ line, “Did you just call me Satan?”

Joe blinks at his rebuttal before a laugh startles out of his throat, and he clutches at his chest in mock hurt, “I would never! You are the morning star, my love”

Nicky narrows his eyes at him. _Clever poets being stupidly good with their mouths,_ he thinks. This proves to be a mistake because then he remembers last week and just _how_ stupidly good Joe is with his mouth. He's a wonderful kisser, enthusiastic and clever in all aspects of his being. Nicky scowls up at him and tries to think of anything other than that until he can get Joe into bed and underneath him, put his own mouth to better uses.

“You were the one talking about being cast out of heaven, Nicolò.” Joe reminds him, glancing down at his lap, evidently pleased by Nicky’s accidental innuendo. When Nicky blushes furiously by way of response, Joe softens, and the mood shifts back to safer territory as he croons, “Oh no! Don’t worry- You nodded off against my shoulder. And you’ve had a long week. I only woke you because everyone’s headed off and you need to get a proper night’s sleep, not crash here.”

“Although Nicky’s a very literal soul” Quynh teases, sharp but sweet, and when Nicky turns to try and scowl at her he’s met with gentle eyes.

Nevertheless, Nicky goes to apologise again, feeling dreadful about sleeping through their evening and getting in the way so literally but then remembers Zara and flushes at the way he’s been so blatantly flirting with her father, “Where’s Zara?”

Joe’s lips purse briefly at the abrupt change in topic. “I put her to bed, about an hour and a half ago, remember?”

Ah yes. Nicky relaxes back into the rug in relief. He’s never dated anyone with children before. It’s why he’s not sure how to behave. Is PDA in front of kids okay? How much? Holding hands and hugging was probably fine, but that was all he’d ever seen his own parents do. They were stiff and cold together, even after thirty-four years of marriage. Not like how Joe is with him. And obviously, he wants to kiss Joe. But, can they kiss in front of Zara, or is that not okay? He needs to ask Joe, when he can.

Sitting on the sofa still, Joe must sense his uncertainty because he just smiles, so softly and – it’s not a dismissal, just - letting the issue rest. They’ll come back to it when they’re alone.

“It was rude of me” Nicky insists when he can manage it.

“Was I not a good pillow?” Joe asks playfully, in return as Nicky pushes himself upright, taking the hand Andy offers him. As ever with Joe, a smile tugs at the corner of Nicky’s mouth before he can stop himself.

“Mmph. Too firm” he pokes Joe in the stomach, his own coiling with desire at the firmness under his fingertip. 

“You’re supposed to say ‘just right’, Goldilocks” Joe replies, smoothing a lock of hair behind Nicky’s ear, lightly thumbing the silver in his ear as he pulls away.

“I will get a spray bottle, I really will” Booker complains to no-one in particular, until Andy shoves at his shoulder and starts pushing him towards the door.

****

Once the others are on their way towards their respective evenings, Joe and Nicky get ready for bed themselves with easy domesticity; crowding together over the bathroom sink to brush teeth, Nicky hovering in the doorway as Joe ducks into Zara’s room to switch off the bedside light she’s left blazing after sneakily sitting up to read past her bedtime. Zara is properly dead to the world now though, one arm around Pepper the Lynx, little chest rising and falling steadily in her sleep. Gently folding the corner of the page down, he leaves Lyra and Pantalaimon’s adventures on the bedside table and presses a gentle whisper of a kiss to Zara’s forehead before turning off the light. When they retreat to the quiet of Joe’s bedroom, there’s the pulling on of sweatpants – along with a brief detour when Joe finally changes out of that pesky jumper - Nicky coming to help the top slip from his shoulders, his own hands tracing along Joe’s skin; grazing his forearms and stomach. He sits on the bed, hands slotting over Joe’s hipbones to keep him in place as he presses a kiss above the waistband of Joe’s newly acquired sweatpants but there’s no heat in this, only a reverence that makes Joe’s skin jump and desire curl in his belly below Nicky’s touch.

Joe cups Nicky’s cheek, thumb tracing that dark hollow of his eye, checking in “You are exhausted, habibi”

“And you are beautiful. And I wanted to inspire some more sweet dreams for both of us before we sleep” he yawns then, bleary-eyed and soft, not so much helping Joe tug his loose pajama top-down as simply resting his palms on Joe’s own, before scooting up the bed to slip below the covers, hands outstretched, like some adorable zombie. Joe watches him go for a moment, heart-clenching at the onslaught of affection for this wonderfully beautiful man, who has so easily commandeered his bed and his heart. Then he’s scrambling after him, crawling up the bed to wrap Nicky in his arms.

They trade pliant kisses until they’re both out with the light.

*****

Booker scrubs a hand over his face with a sigh and closes the program he was running. He’s not going to get any work done now. And, if he’s honest with himself (a rare occasion) he’s not overly happy with what he has got done but he’s put the hours in, anyway. It’s a start. _A first draft just has to exist_ , Joe’s always saying. And then his phone buzzes, shifting across the desktop.

Nile’s beautiful face, turned back to grin at the camera from where Joe’s giving her piggyback that day at the theme park lights up his screen.

It’s 1.30am.

He snatches up the phone, refusing to panic, barely able to swipe right on the call. She’d said she was going out dancing with some of the girls tonight. He’s glad for it, she’d been a little…reserved when they were watching Beauty and the Beast and he hadn’t had a chance to ask her why. Some fun would do her good, distract her a bit from whatever had upset her. Now though, she’s probably just in need of a lift home “Nile? Sweetheart, is everything alright?

There’s giggling on the other end of the line, and a voice that is definitely not Nile’s hisses, “Oh my God, his _voice-“_

Someone shushes the woman.

“ _Bonjour,_ Booker”

He starts panicking because someone has Nile’s phone and it’s not Nile. But after a moment he recognises whose speaking, and when it hits him it takes all he has not to groan. Eleanore. Nile’s flatmate.

 _Oh, Jesus._ Booker breathes out through his nose, the way his therapist taught him, determined to be civil. “ _Bonjour, Ellie. Ca va_?” And then, because she has Nile’s phone, without Nile, “Where’s Nile?”

“Oh, she’s at the bar. Where are _y_ -“

“Is that my **_phone?_** ” Comes Nile’s voice and then some drunken squawking, before Nile’s speaks directly into the device, crisp and apple sweet. “Book? Fuck, I’m sorry, honey. Next time, I’ll wear pants with pockets”

“You have nothing to apologise, mon tresor.” He says immediately, breathing out at the sound of her voice, sits back down where the panic had pulled him from his seat “Are you alright?”

“Peachy keen. Just out dancing, you know. But I obviously need new flatmates” she says in the French they have all perfected together. Booker laughs, full and rich as cream and Nile joins in. But then she goes quiet. There’s a moment when he wonders wildly if she’s rung off, but Nile wouldn’t do that without saying goodbye. There’s a heavy sigh over the line, and things sound a little quieter, the sound of the club receding.

“I wish you were here” she confesses, still in French.

Booker all but stops breathing. She’s going to be the death of him. But something in her voice makes him feel braver than he has in…such a long time.

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“It’s – it’s well after midnight, now” she hedges apologetically.

“So? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin? That’s not what I asked _ma belle_. Do you want me to come to you?” He asks again, definitely not thinking about his choice of endearment or a certain Disney film they’d just watched together.

Another gentle sigh, this one obviously of relief. Booker’s heart clenches. Their lion-hearted girl. “Yeah. Yeah please, Book”

“Where are you?”

She gives him the club’s name, somewhere on Dean Street in Soho that he vaguely remembers and after a moment – because he does not know if she will want to go home or carry on her night with an evidently friendlier face– he changes into a fresh shirt, plain white, and rolls the sleeves up. With his work slacks and shoes - yes, that should do for clubbing.

When he gets there, the club is packed and pulsing. When he eventually spots Nile, she’s dancing with Ciara and a few other young women he doesn’t recognise. She’s beautiful, of course, as she always is, braids slipping over her shoulders as she moves, lost in the music. He thinks he’s going to die on the spot; gone are the denim shirt and leggings of earlier; replaced by a stretchy bright red tank top and leather pants, silver bangles sliding on her arms as she dances. Deciding to make his presence known at least, and then probably retreat to the bar he wades across the dancefloor towards them and taps her on the shoulder. Nile spins on the spot and stares at him blankly for a second. Then, there’s no other way to describe it, her face lights up in recognition and she launches herself at him. “You came!”

Booker catches her easily, arms slipping around her waist, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume. It’s only been a few hours, hardly long enough to forget the familiar notes, but as always of late, the confirmation that she’s here and real in his arms hits him like a freight train “Of course, love”

He drops a kiss to her cheek and _prays_ she doesn’t notice the endearment, hopes she’ll just take it as part and parcel of the litany he usually lavishes on her. Rather than notice that this latest one is new; the one that Andy and Quynh, and now probably Joe and Nicky use all the time. Because unlike Booker and Nile, they are couples. Which is stupid, but really, he has to hope all the same. Nile’s embrace tightens for a moment before she pulls back. There’s a carefulness to her face, just for a moment and then she’s grinning.

“Thank you! I mean, I’m so sorry about earlier, I don’t know what the hell Elle pulled that shit for but I love you for coming out” She has to shout a little, over the music and Booker’s sure even in the smoky rainbow of the neon lights on the dancefloor, the brightness of his cheeks must be obvious. Nile’s got to stop telling him she loves him all easy like this because honestly, Booker’s not built for it. His heart can’t take it. Because that’s just Nile, that’s just how she talks. She doesn’t mean it Like That. Not the way he’d mean it.

_Get a grip, Le Livre, Jesus._

Swallowing, he smiles at her and when he speaks, thankfully his inner Andy comes out instead. “You’re one of us. This is what we do for each other” He isn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, however, because something in Nile’s face stills – just for a second – before it smooths away and she nods, her smile gentling.

“Didn’t know you had an instant line to Andy, that must be useful” It could be so much harsher, except that’s not Nile, she has steel in her spine but he has never seen her use even a tenth of it. So instead it’s this light and lovely teasing, sarcastic and done to make him smile and it always works.

Booker ducks his head, but it fails to hide his smile. “Anyway, now that I’m here, what do you want to do? Did you want to go home or we can stick around?”

“Really?!” her excitement is back, full force. “You’d do that?”

 _I’d do anything for you,_ he thinks, but manages to just smile and shrug gently, “Of course. So, what do you want?”

“I think Elle might murder me, flaunting you in front of her like that”

He casts a glance at the rest of the club and finds Eleanore at the booth, scowling at them. She’s lovely really, all shiny mahogany curls and curves, but he has Nile’s arms looped around his waist and that angelic smile and that is all he wants, or ever will again. “She does know I’m a mess right?”

“You’re a hot mess” Nile nods at him and is it him or do her eyes linger? On his eyes, his chest, arms, and thighs? It could be nothing, of course, she’s forever telling Nicky he’s hot, but their resident Italian model of a paramedic just smiles shyly, happy to dress for practicality alone. But it’s the kind of comment, along with what she’s said about his shirt buttons in Joe’s kitchen, about how one good stretch would pop them open that had him wanting to test that theory, wanted to see if it would –

He shuts down that thought, hard and fast.

_Whatever I am, I’m yours._

He shuts that thought down too.

“So I take it we’re not staying?” he manages, after a minute spent on it and not the fact that she has not stepped out of his arms in all this long while.

“No, lemme grab my stuff and we can – I want another drink, like an actual drink not watered down 50p shots. Is that okay?”

“Sure. There’s a nice bar in Leicester Square, we can go and just sit if you want”

“I want” Nile mutters, throat thick and lovely and she finally lets go of his waist, only to offer him her hand instead. He takes it gently, curls it safely in his own. Which is how they end up sharing a quiet drink, before Nile yawns and asks to go home. How Nile, completely guileless asks if she can come back to his because he’s got a memory foam mattress in his spare room and the idea of witnessing the post-night-out zombie shuffling around her flat is less than appealing. They all pretty much run open houses, live in each other’s pockets. Nile has clothes and sleepwear and silk bonnets at each of their places, anyway. How he lets her drag him into the Burger King on the corner for chicken nuggets and a burger – ooh, yes with fries and plenty of vinegar – before he hails them a cab and she politely lets the food go cold in its take out bag because they’ll reheat it when they get back to his anyway. 

When she eventually bids him goodnight and disappears into the spare room – like so many other nights, the way everyone except Nicky (although he knows he is more than welcome, this new little brother) has been doing for years – Booker tells himself he’ll get over it, that he’ll tuck this love away and that he’d do this for any of them. But he doesn’t need to tell himself that he’s a good liar because that’s the best lie he’s told himself in years. 

*****

Come Saturday morning, Nicky is in heaven again.

Being cradled in Joe’s embrace, legs tangling, surrounded by Joe’s scent and reassuring weight around him is heavenly. Nicky’s inability to wriggle deeper into the sensation until he drifts back off to bliss is not.

He honestly does try, luxuriating in this sleep soft, undisturbed time. It feels like a sin to disrupt it. They have nowhere to be. But he’s keyed up, raring to go, as ever. His phone’s charging on the bedside cabinet where he left it and the time reveals it’s about a quarter past 9. Long past time he was due to get up, and they’d turned in early anyway. So, in the end, he wriggles about until he can kiss Joe’s forehead in a silent good morning and slips from the bed. Joe in sleep, curls stark against the pillow, artist’s fingers pillowing his cheek makes Nicky finally understand the meaning of the word ‘heart-throb’. But - it would not be right to wake his angel in his repose. Coffee. Coffee, and hopefully, Joe will be awake by the time he comes back.

Padding downstairs to the kitchen, he can see the living room tv’s on, tuned to some chirpy cartoon or other, and sure enough, as he pokes his head around the door, Zara is to be found in her red and white Snoopy pajamas, leaning back into the couch cushions. She must be allowed to quietly start her weekend mornings like this. 

Gently, he knocks on the door and she turns to smile at him. “Good morning Nicky” she waves enthusiastically and even if she wasn’t the sweetest child he’s ever met (he’s not biased, or anything) he doesn’t know a soul who wouldn’t be endeared by her.

“Good morning Zara, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you” she shuffles off the sofa, and then looks at him, curiously. “Did you and Baba?”

Nicky chokes on his own spit. His cheeks feel hot enough to fry eggs on and he doesn’t even know why because they didn’t even-! They shared a bed physically, that’s all she means, he knows that. That’s all they had done! And it’s not as if Zara would even know about any of that, at her age!

It’s a perfectly innocent question from a perfect innocent and he needs to get his head out of the gutter. Taking a shaky breath, Nicky finds a smile and his voice within a few moments of each other “Yes, thank you. I needed a good night’s sleep, I was so tired.”

Zara nods, in remembrance. “I don’t know how,” she says strangely before a mischievous look crosses her face and she puts her hand to the side of her mouth, so she’s whispering behind her hand, secretively “Baba snores”

Nicky quirks his eyebrows, returning her disloyal smile. Joe does snore, the tiniest bit. More like snuffling. It’s very cute. “I don’t mind”

Zara’s eyes brighten and she comes to stand in front of him, peering up at his face, head tilted right back like she’s staring at a big tree. He isn’t sure if she’s tall for her age, but she comes up to his waist, just about. “You like Baba a lot, don’t you” It’s not a question, and Nicky’s no mouse but he feels like he’s in front of a lion, the way she’s watching him unflinchingly, hands on her hips.

“A lot, yes” He’s not good with words like Joe, and he’s not sure exactly how to put into words what he feels for Joe anyway, the warmth that’s settled in his chest that he gets to have something like this, the way it flares whenever Joe looks at him. That a man like Joe should see what he does in Nicky. Plus, Zara probably doesn’t want to hear all that anyway, so he hopes his answer will do. “I like you both, very much”

“Good. Because we like you a lot too” And the moment breaks, test passed and Zara looks past him to the kitchen, “Were you going to make some tea? Can I have some, please?”

“Of course!” Bless her, she must have to wait for an adult to make one. Once he’s set the kettle off boiling, he sets about making two cups of tea and resigning himself to some instant coffee from the tin on the counter.

“Oh, Nicky!” Zara taps the countertop she’s sitting on to get his attention, “Baba bought a – cafétiére for you.” She pronounces the word with care for its evident newness to her vocabulary, leans over, and points at a cupboard, “S’ in there” Following her direction reveals there is indeed the promised cafetiére, glass, and metal gleaming, with a bag of unopened coffee beside it.

The urge to run upstairs and kiss every inch of Yusuf al-Kaysani is tempered only by the need to make sure Zara and Joe have their beverages first.

“Nicky?” Zara calls about twenty minutes later from where she’s playing on the floor with a toy castle as Nicky watches the news. He’d taken Joe up his tea, but he’d still been hugging his pillow, out cold. He closes the email from his sister Arianna; her two boys smiling in the attached photos. The ache in his heart, at the distance between himself and his family both geographically and otherwise, lessens at Zara’s interruption. It brings him back to the scents and sounds of his present, a grounding reminder that he is the house of a good man, whom he adores, with a new family about him. And it’s not as if Arianna has abandoned him either. Perhaps if he’s lucky she and Sandro will bring the boys to England or somewhere closer one day soon so he can meet them. He wonders if they will like him.

“Yes, little sparrow?”

“Is a battering ram better than a catapult?”

Nicky stares at her, positive he’s misheard. He’s definitely missing something. “Mi dispiace, tesoro, what’s that?”

Zara gestures at the fortress she’s playing with, holding up a little brass model of a catapult which she proudly tells him is also a pencil sharpener, and a pencil topped with a crown she got from the Tower of London gift shop when they went there together. She knocks it against the castle’s sealed doors. Ah, a _ariete da assedio._

He tells her the word in Italian and in return she tells him the word in Arabic.

“Would the army get inside faster or is there time to strengthen the defences?”

Nicky slides from his seat, intrigued and enthused. Who would’ve thought his interest in history and medieval military tactics would come in handy? He drops to the floor beside her, crossing his legs and surveying the battlefield. “Ah well, are they English fighters?” he indicates the figurines lining the ramparts, Zara thinks about it for a moment before nodding.

“Well, the English were known to be highly skilled archers, although Italians were magnificent with the crossbow, so anyway- “

****

Joe wakes with a stretch, joints popping perfectly and nuzzles forward, hand slipping across the sheets for Nicky, and coming up empty.

“Nicky?” Hmm. The bed is cold and he’s alone. Where’s he gone?

He had been especially gorgeous, earlier when Joe had got up for prayer, rumpled so prettily stretched out on his stomach, the image of perfection with his royal blue t-shirt stretching across his shoulder blades, highlighting the smooth line of his back, the way it dipped down before rising over the perfect plumpness of his ass, which those sweatpants did nothing to distract from. Hair flopping over on itself, so that it stood up adorably, brushing against the pillows. He had determined to sketch that image, the goldenness of this sleeping Roman God in his bed. But Nicky is not here, gone like the morning mist.

Well, that’s his wake-up call upset. Scrubbing at his eyes, Joe eventually manages to read the time on the clock. Ugh, still early. But as he turns there’s a mug of tea waiting on the bedside table, a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it.

_Nicky._

Peeling the lime green paper off, Joe rubs his thumb over it. He can see Nicky in his mind’s eye, catching sight of the pad by the landline on the way up the stairs and stopping to make the simple doodle with the Sharpie. Rolling to retrieve the sketchbook from the bottom shelf of his bedside table, Joe tucks it carefully inside the pages before kicking off the covers happily. Cuddles and then coffee.

Which is how he finds Nicky and Zara playing on the living room floor together, in the middle of what has obviously been a very bloody assault on her Playmobil Castle, fallen soldiers littering the carpet around them.

Standing in the doorway, watching them Joe’s heart swoops for the third time that day, and he knows that this scene too must be sketched. As he watches a soldier takes a dive over the castle walls and dies somewhat gruesomely by falling on the palisades that have been erected around the castle walls, by repurposing cocktail sticks and sticking them out of the rug the castle had been set up on in a criss-cross fashion.

Apparently, Nicky’s been giving lessons in how to be efficient with medieval battle strategy while he’s been asleep. Okay, that’s hot.

Advancing, Joe comes to stand over Zara until she looks up, “Morning Baba!”

He ducks down to kiss her forehead, grabbing hold and tickling when she squirms at the scrape of his beard over her skin “Hello, my star. Is it going well?”

Zara nodded enthusiastically, “The knights have rescued the King and secured the Keep!”

“Effectively, I see. Nicolò, have you been teaching my daughter siege tactics?” The creativity of introducing cocktail stick palisades to the playing is making him smile, the container upended by Nicky’s hip.

“She asked!” he worries that lovely lower lip and Joe aches to taste it.

“Mmmph-hmm. She is lucky to have happened across a good teacher then” Joe said, raising an eyebrow at him, and Nicky’s so cute in his petulant insistence that Joe has to dart over to kiss him. “Hi, ya amar”

Nicky freezes under his lips and Joe curses himself, for forgetting Nicky’s discomfort with public affection, immediately pulling away. “I’m sorry” he starts to say, but Nicky shoots the split second of glances at Zara, who's paying them no mind, and then Nicky’s hand cups the back of his neck and pulls Joe back to him, to return the kiss, sweet and quick.

“Breakfast? Pancakes?”

Zara’s hazel eyes go wide and shining. “Best Weekend Ever” she declares and Nicky ducks his head at the compliment, taking the hand Joe offers and heading towards the kitchen.

Following Nicky to the kitchen, Joe waits until Nicky has shut the door, hands still pressed against the painted wood before he tries again but Nicky shushes him, eyes wide as he turns back to Joe, reaching for his hands, “You have nothing to apologise for, beloved. I’m the one who allowed myself to be caught off guard by this.”

Joe squeezes Nicky’s fingers lightly. “Can you – help me to understand, does kissing make you uncomfortable?”

Nicky is quiet for a moment then he shakes his head, steps close. “No, no - Joe,” he stares imploringly into Joe’s face, “ I always want to kiss you. Only - my parents aren’t like that, together. They were never so affectionate to each other in front of us, growing up. They're stiff with one another. Cold.” Nicky shrugged. “And in my head, of course, I know this is different. I’m nothing like them” He gives a dark little laugh but then the shadow that had passed momentarily over his face slips away, and he squeezes Joe’s hand lightly, “I always want to touch you. But it was a foolish thing, I ought to have asked before now, what affection is okay, in front of Zara. That’s why I’ve been hesitant”

Joe relaxes, pulls Nicky’s hands up to kiss his knuckles, awed at the size of Nicky’s careful heart, with his lack of comparison. His own parents had been constant and comfortable in their love, after all. “Kissing, hand holding, cuddling, it's fine, I promise. We’re a tactile lot.” And he cannot help it, his voice grows teasing, now the matter is resolved “I mean, we can’t walk around shirtless and chase our pleasure at a moment’s notice but- “

Nicky scowls and cages Joe closer to the fridge pleased when Joe leaves off teasing to lean in for a kiss. He captures Joe’s lips, licking into his mouth and kissing him filthy, lips wet and soft until Joes panting and clutching at him. Joe gapes at him for a moment, before pulling him back in for more. He sucks that lower lip between his teeth and Nicky moans quietly, so he swallows that too as Nicky’s hands delve into his bedhead curls, pressing him back against the fridge. “ _Hmm, good morning”_ he purrs but it gets lost in between their mouths. Once Nicky’s face is pleasantly buffed to pinkness, and there’s no oxygen left between them, they break apart.

“That’s what you get for teasing” Nicky informs him, or tries to, voice husky.

“If that’s what I get for teasing – God, Nicolò, like that’s meant to be an incentive for me to stop”

“I never said anything about you stopping” Nicky retorted serenely, backing up a little.

And then, because they need to be serious sometimes, he pets at Yusuf’s hair, frames his face to kiss Joe again, chaste but insistent. A line under the previous moment “thank you, for being so understanding. I’m glad to know”

“Promise me, if ever you’re not sure you’ll ask. She’s an easy-going little thing.”

“Always”

****

They end up making crepes with a tooth-rotting array of sugar, jam, and chocolate chips – Zara is told to brush her teeth twice as long – and they make a picture, the three of them frothing over the bathroom sink.

When they retreat to the bedroom en-suite to shower – and the fact that they’ve come in here is making Nicky’s heart pound - before the loosely arranged trip to the Science Museum Joe smiles widely at him, all dimples and crinkles and freckles, the slight unevenness of his lower teeth just make him _more_. Beautiful. Charming. Princely. As if God had siphoned off the sun when he made Joe, poured sunlight directly into his soul so that it shone through with his smile. It all sounds slightly ludicrous and overly formal when Nicky thinks of it; Joe would be much better suited.

And Nicky needs to get a grip, because there is one curl caught alone in the shell of Joe’s ear, and paired with that smirk it is _doing things_ to him. Which – he just – he’s been attracted to people before, he’s squashed it down and smothered it in guilt and his lack of self-esteem enough to recognise it well by now. But Joe, magnificent, impossible, unforeseen, Joe said all these wonderful things about Nicky, about how he wanted him, and so earnestly, that – that Nicky doesn’t feel silly for finding beauty in this tiny aspect of Joe’s appearance. He is beautiful, this is just one of the facts of life, all over. He is. He _is._ This proves it.

It also makes him brave, because he wants to show Joe this, so when he sees the comfortable size of the shower cubicle – apparently Joe indulged in three things when he bought this house; a studio, a good bed, and a nice shower for himself – he can’t help it. “Shower with me?”

Joe quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes dancing, “Why, Nicky!” he laughs and Nicky shrugs, he said he wants to kiss every inch of Yusuf al-Kaysani, and he can’t think of a better place to do it. He says as much. Joe’s eyes gleam and suddenly Nicky finds himself in the ensuite with the door shut and the shower on, the room filling with steam as Joe tugs on the t-shirt he wore to bed.

“I need to commune with your shoulder blades,” Joe says earnestly, hands spanning across the width of them. It takes them a few minutes of long, distracting, exploratory kisses but eventually they do end up in the shower and Nicky can begin his mission. He starts with Joe’s face; forehead, eyelids, cheeks, returning to his mouth more than once.

“Thank you for the cafetiere by the way. You didn’t have to do that for me, Yusuf”

“What?” Joe blusters, and Nicky delights in it, skims along the sharp cut of Joe’s jaw, “No idea what you’re on about, I’ve had that for _ages”_

“Really?” Nicky asks, voice impossibly smooth and not his own, as he takes Joe’s cock in hand, almost lazily as he starts to stroke up and down, peppering kisses from throat to collarbone. “Then why was the packaging out for recycling, hmm?”

“Are we really having – “Joe has to stop, for a moment, trying to catch his breath, something glints in his eyes, “it’s a really good box. I’ve been saving it” his valiant bluff gets cut off, as Nicky starts to move his hand more vigorously, Joe filling to hardness under his fingers, “Oh, fuck, Nicky, please – “

And that draws Nicky to his own request, now that Joe’s fully hard, he drops his hand, shushing Joe’s answering whine, and carefully getting to his knees, gently pushing Joe back against the wall of the shower to give himself room.

“Where are you – fuck, Nicky?” Joe’s looking down at him, water trailing down his arms as he follows Nicky’s movements, hands still on his shoulders.

“Can I, Joe?”

Joe blinks at him for a moment, like he can’t believe Nicky is quite real. They'd candidly discussed their sexual health as well as their appetites over the week just gone, having both been recently tested and were thankfully, in perfect health. 

"Are you - you're sure? Because, because God, Nicky," Joe huffed, taking a deep breath, clearing his head. He has to be sensible, they have to be clear on this. Nicky lets go of his hips, sits back on his haunches, looking up at him, clear-eyed. "I'm in this. You and me. You have me." he swallows, heart on a platter. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise"

"Good," Nicky says, with a tone of evident satisfaction. "Neither am I. Yusuf, Neither am I, I promise you that." As if he hasn't just winded Joe, with words alone. The sincerity in his eyes remains long enough for him to smile sweetly up at Joe before he asks, "So? May I?"

Joe can't help it, he reaches out, runs his forefinger the length of Nicky's cheek, cupping his jaw where above Nicky's mole, dragging his thumb over Nicky's mouth, unable to believe this man is real and not some magnificent dream. “Yes. Yes, Nicky, babe, anything I- “

Nicky hums at the consent, ready to indulge himself “Thank you, my love. You spoil me” he nuzzles at Joe’s hipbone, pulls away to press a kiss to the head of Joe’s cock.

Joe moans, head dropping backwards, “I spoil _you?”_ he asks incredulously, hands ghosting over Nicky’s head as Nicky swallows him down, until Nicky reaches up, tangles Joe’s fingers in his hair.

There’s nothing else after that, just a litany of praises from Joe ‘Nicky, Nicky, you’re perfect, you’re so good, Nicky, fuck, so good to me. babe’ that pulse along Nicky’s nerve endings that has him taking himself in his hand until they tumble over the edge of their arousal together and Joe pulls him on unsteady legs upright, under the spray to kiss him, deep and hot.

“Oh yeah. Best Weekend ever”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Palisades - which Nicky improvises with cocktail sticks - were metre high wooden stakes arranged in criss-cross fashions if castles had dry moats as an extra line of defence
> 
> Translations: (as ever if it's wrong, please tell me so I can fix it)
> 
> Mi dispiace, tesoro - I'm sorry, darling  
> ariete da assedio - battering ram  
> cazzo - shit 
> 
> Some of this chapter was inspired by Marwan and Luca's filmography namely:
> 
> Nicky in bed: https://hawkaye.tumblr.com/post/627173108538818560
> 
> And Nicky appreciating Joe's curls: https://niccolos.tumblr.com/post/634511861274083328/marwan-kenzari-freckles-in-hartenstraat
> 
> Updates may slow down because I have work and am meant to be participating in The Old Guard Big Bang. Would you guys be interested in BTS or deleted snippets? I could put them on my tumblr?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of emotional hurt and a lot of love and comfort.  
> And some flirting too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passing references to bad dreams, anxiety. There is also a description of First Aid training including reference to CPR and Nicky and Joe practice the Heimlich manoeuvre, in case that’s an issue for anyone. It’s from ‘He meanders about’ to ‘Joe leans off’. It’s very vague and there is no description of how to actually perform either treatment, but as I say just in case. 
> 
> If I can improve/ add tags or chapter warnings, please let me know.

Winter snapped quickly into place, frosting the glass and the grass outside of Andy and Quynh’s loft mercilessly. Quynh tiredly turned the heat on the shower up, and shuffled under the spray, delighting in the way the hot water danced over the tight muscles of her shoulders and the quiet way the water bouncing off her shower cap sounded like rain.

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. “Room for one more?” Andy asked. It always made Quynh laugh, seeing how terrified people were of her wife. Andy had the biggest, squishiest heart of anyone she knew.

“Only if it’s you” Quynh teased back. Andy slipped inside the bathroom, and Quynh pushes the towel aside to watch her through the glass as she slips two towels onto the radiator and strips out of her sleepwear. Looking at Andy, the only way you’d know it was winter was the fluffy bed socks. Always one for efficiency, Andy’s soon opening the door and stepping in, bracing on Quynh’s arms so she doesn’t slip. Not that Andromache Scythia ever slipped. As far as anyone who wasn’t Quynh knew.

“Mmmph, hi babe” Andy purrs, though the way she folds Quynh into her arms, presses a kiss to the back of Quynh’s neck, and then, because Andy is privately silly, to the top of the shower cap is utter reverence. They shower quickly, the experience just one of the many ways they’ve grown to show their love over the years. To be able to have their hands on each other, unimpeded by clothing, skin made soft and supple by the water. Andy kisses along the tattoos on Quynh’s shoulders and wrists. The adoration continues when Andy switches off the water, leads the way out, wrapping Quynh in the fluffy toasty warmth of the soft towels and drying her shoulders so that when she removes the shower cap her hair doesn’t stick to her skin. Quynh’s always greedy for Andromache like this; when she takes her time with something that should be routine or perfunctory and turns it into something akin to worship.

They stand for a while in front of the bathroom mirror, watching their features come back into focus under the steam before Andy asks what Quynh’s been waiting for.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Quynh had slept poorly, jolted away by a bizarre dream. “I promise, love. It was about the Simpsons and pumpkins, of all things. Nothing real, nothing that can touch us” Quynh giggles. It had been scary, but the absurdity and the fact that it very much couldn’t happen had leeched the fear of the dream away after she’d woken up with her heart racing. Andy’s face relaxes and she cuddles closer, burying her face in the juncture between Quynh’s neck and shoulder.

“Good” Andy nuzzles up Quynh’s neck, “Still, you didn’t sleep well, you need your rest”

“And you? You alright?” Quynh rubbed her hands along Andy’s forearms

“Just – worried” Andy nuzzled closer into Quynh, sounding as tired as Quynh felt.

“About?”

“It’s all going so well. Everything – “she made an all-encompassing gesture “And I just worry, you know about the other shoe dropping” she shrugged, and the way she was holding her meant that Quynh’s own shoulders jumped too with the movement. Quynh knows.

“We can’t win all the battles of the world” she reminds her

“No,” Andy agrees, “We just have to do what good we can”. Their reflections smile back at them. Andy smiles, in that way she does. It’s not a mask, really, nor a lie. A decision to grin and re-shoulder it, “D’you know, babe, I think – and correct me if I’m wrong – but I _think_ we’ve earned a duvet day”

Quynh hums, leaning back, lips pulling back into a gleaming smile. “I think your right about that, my love”

Andy squeezes Quynh quickly, a subtle rallying cry just for them, “I’ll call the faculties if you put on the heated blanket”

Quynh laughed out loud, at the extra toasty cuddles that awaited her “Oh, Andromache, you tease”

Andy tossed a wink over her shoulder as she headed out the door. Left alone, Quynh winked at her reflection in the mirror before deciding that it was time to break in that new negligee.

Duvet sex marathon days are the **_best_**.

*****

Nicky swiped the red delete button on his emails with a sigh, reopening the real estate app instead. He clicked determinedly on the notifications on potential listings instead. The lease on his flat was up soon, he really did have more important things to be worrying about.

Speaking of more important things. A smile had already cracked across his face by the time he tapped on the little blue dot beside Joe’s new message. It grows when he sees there’s multiple messages, including a photo of Joe and Zara smushed into the frame, obviously fighting over the phone; bright smiles on both their faces. The blue Post-it Nicky had left stuck to the bedside lamp for Joe when he’s had to leave Joe sleeping yesterday is now stuck to Joe’s forehead, so that it reads: _Nicely tousled_

He’s in love with Joe, there’s no getting away from it. Not that he wants to, he wants to run at it, full speed, arms wide open, soak in it, sing about it. He loves his kind, easy, open heart, his passion, his laugh. The way he’ll discuss various historical figures so in-depth and personally, it’s as if they owe him money. He just…needs to find the right time to tell him.

 **My heart:** We had a fight over who got to send you a selfie

 **Nicky:** And you let the princess win as any good gentleman should, I see

 **My heart:** She uses you as her own personal climbing frame as it is. It’s just not on. And don’t think I don’t see the faces you 2 were pulling @ each other last week when I was working on your painting, darling.

Nicky smiles faintly at the reference to the painting Joe is making of Nicky as a Knight of Old. He hasn't seen it yet, just sat on a breakfast bar stool wearing a helmet as Joe works on it. But it's fun, watching Joe so focused, and being so focused, being at the centre of Joe's gaze is so intriguing because it's so unlike how he looks at anything else, other than when he's making his art. Nicky wishes he could find a way to show Joe how beautiful he is when he's off praising the beauty of everything else. 

**Nicky:** About my painting, I was wondering, could I have your favour?

 **My heart:** You have more than my favour, habibi: P

Nicky sighs fondly and shuffles in his seat, determined not to devolve into sexting when Celeste is driving and he’s at work. He’d learned that lesson, last week.

 **Nicky:** You know what I mean. Your colours, on my arm, or tucked inside the cuirass? Either the Tunisian flag or just your favourite colours I don’t know whatever would be appropriate?

 **My heart** : Nicky…please tell me you can come over tonight. I need to kiss you and paint your body with my tongue if you’re going to talk like this.

Nicky suddenly gets a very clear visual and coughs, looking up out of the windshield at the icy, rain flecked streets. He suddenly very much regrets agreeing to lead the Introduction to First Aid workshop at Joe’s university. He’d only done it because he thought it would be a nice surprise for Joe. But now, he’s going to have to stand in a room, knowing the man he loves is somewhere on-site and making Nicky ache with want, and Nicky is not allowed to go and follow up on it.

 **Nicky:** Behave Yusuf. I’m at work!

He receives no reply and thinks that – with a degree of regret – that his admonishment has worked and Joe has decided to leave off. He hopes he hasn’t offended either and checks his phone as they near the university, resolved to run up to Joe’s office or hell, interrupt a class if he has to, and apologise. But then as Celeste pulls into the university car park his phone mercifully buzzes against his thigh. Joe must have been driving after dropping Zara at school.

 **My heart:** So am I now. Doesn’t stop me thinking about it, about how you feel pressed against me, about how you taste, of all those gorgeous noises you make…. Face it, babe, I’ve got the better poker face.

It’s very hot in the cab all of a sudden. “Nicky,” comes Celeste’s soft voice, although she sounds like she’s fighting back a laugh, “You okay? You’ve gone very pink”

Nodding silently, not trusting his voice, _Goddamn it Yusuf_ , Nicky’s fingers fly across the keyboard before he shoves his phone away in his pocket and jumps out of the door. In hindsight, if Nicky was not a competitive little shit sometimes, on top of being…committed to his principles, he wouldn’t have made the following proposition. But here we are:

 **Nicky:** Wanna bet?

They’re setting up in the large classroom, piles of gauze and the practice Defibrillator, when the students start filtering in, including as it turns out Nile, whose doing it as a refresher to keep her certificate. But the staff member whose acting as a co-ordinating supervisor hasn’t turned up. Nicky’s just about to retrace his steps back to the reception when the door opens and a familiar, beloved voice calls out, “Sorry I’m late! Right, you lot, I’ve got the registration sheet, please pass it around and sign next to your name so we can sort out the certificates!”

Nicky gapes at the back of Joe’s handsome curls. _Did he know?_ _Did he do this on purpose?_ Out of the corner of his eye, Nicky sees Nile nod at him to Joe, who spins on his heel with a wide, innocent smile that he uses to charm cashiers at the supermarket and Nicky knows better than to buy it for a second, as Joe stretches out a hand to Celeste.

“Hello, I’m Professor al-Kaysani, call me Joe. Forgive my lateness, Ms. Wallis was meant to be taking the session originally but I _had to_ step in at the last moment”

He absolutely did this on purpose.

Nicky’s going to kill him.

And he bets Joe rolled up his sleeves up like that on purpose too. 

Oh. Oh no. The bet.

Joe smiles and pulls a self-deprecating face that makes his dimples pop and Nicky’s really, really going to kill him. 

Celeste’s looking at him, and it's then that Nicky realises Joe is holding his hand out to Nicky now, for him to shake. He’s really going to pretend not to know Nicky? Right. Well. Two can play at this game. Nicky sets his jaw and gives Joe’s hands a firm shake.

“Nicolò” he enunciates clearly, tongue caressing the syllables with a smirk at the way Joe’s eyes widen, that troublesome mouth of his falling open. He’s made his appreciation for Nicky’s accent very clear. Joe’s thumb grazes over the back of Nicky’s hand, right over the patch of skin between his forefinger and thumb, eyes hot and full of promise before he steps back and lets Nicky go, asking in a determinedly calm voice if they’re all set up and ready to start.

Nicky lets out a slow breath, praying that the way he watches the path Joe treads to drop off his registration list and take a seat away from the students at the back of the room, in Nicky’s clear line of sight, isn’t obvious.

Whoever wins this bet, neither of them is going to get any sleep tonight.

The session goes well really, Nicky lets his private game with Yusuf take a back seat to actually doing his job and supporting Celeste as she leads the workshop. Joe mainly seems to be there to be on hand and encourage the students to engage with the session. He meanders about chatting with the students to check they're happy with the instructions for the CPR. Nicky feels like he’s dancing on a live wire, ultra-aware of Joe’s movements, of the soft lilt of his voice. Part of it is simple joy at watching Joe in Teacher-mode, how natural he is in supporting the students. Part of it is Joe’s competence; the strength in those graceful fingers, muscles gliding under his skin as he moves through the practices. It reminds Nicky of last week, Joe’s hands mapping over Nicky’s chest as he glided up and down on Nicky’s cock, meeting the thrust of his hips, hot and perfect. Or the day after, when he had fucked Nicky long and slow against the bedroom wall to celebrate the start of the weekend. Nicky wiggles, rolling his hips where he’s leaning against the desk at the ghost of the sensation of Joe’s hands there.

“ _Fuck, Nico, you’re perfect for me, you take me so beautifully, look at you, habibi”_

“Ready, Nicky?” Celeste asks quietly, wandering over to the front to start the next part of the training. Nicky all but jumped out of his skin; the noise of the students talking, the thump and click of the resuscitation mannequins as they worked on CPR. Good Lord. He’s meant to be getting Joe riled up, not himself. He is losing the bet and Joe hasn’t even done anything, is the worst thing. And then, because he must have done something to accrue a degree of bad karma, Joe looks over and the earnest smile on his face dissolves into smugness as he stretches, slow and deliberate, rolling his shoulders and making the open collar on his shirt widen. He knows how Nicky likes to kiss the hollow of his throat particularly, lavish attention on the source of Joe’s lovely voice, leave marks to match the ones on Nicky’s own neck.

Nicky narrows his eyes and very deliberately goes to bend over the kit bag to pull out the next piece of equipment for the next part of the workshop.

There’s the sound of plastic crinkling and then the sound of someone coughing and spluttering. Nicky whirls round, towards the source of the noise to find Joe, clutching one of the plastic water bottles provided, the front of his lavender shirt vaguely damp and a cluster of water droplets sparkling like diamonds in his beard

“Are you alright, Joe?” asks a young man with messy dark hair next to him, hands hovering.

“Yeah,” Joe rasped after a second, waving the man off, “Fine thank you, just” he coughed and took a delicate sip of his water, “went down the wrong way. It’ll take more than that to beat me,” he says, eyes firmly fixed on Nicky, glittering. Nicky loves that look. And actually, it’s given him a rather splendid idea.

“Since Joe’s demonstrated the danger of choking hazards, I was wondering if he would be my willing volunteer so we can practice the resolution so if anyone really does need help, you’ll feel confident to assist them. Is that okay, Joe?”

He holds up the red Heimlich manoeuvre training vest to Joe, with its plastic air pump on the torso. Joe glances at the vest before meeting Nicky’s eyes, with an expression of begrudged pride, “Perfectly, Nicolò”

Joe steps up to the front and Nicky slips the vest of his head, tugging it straight and if his fingers brush over Joe’s ribs as he does so, it is a total accident. Joe jumps and hurriedly reaches round for the clasps to buckle himself in.

Nicky is definitely, definitely winning. Tonight is going to be _torture._

He waits till Joe is buckled up and then opens the little plastic bag to retrieve two foam darts and passes them over, instructing Joe to insert them into the funnel on the front of the vest to act as an imitation hazard. He then walks the students through the initial steps before saying, “But you may have to do the Heimlich. So you step up behind the person, okay?” he waits for Joe’s permission, who nods back.

Nicky steps up and steps close, wrapping his arms around Joe’s chest, relishing the warmth of his gorgeous body and the scent of his cologne as he demonstrates the correct hold before squeezing, hard enough that the two little foam darts shoot out of the funnel and fly across the room.

“There we are. Got you” he whispers, voice tickling that curl by the shell of Joe’s ear as Nicky lets him go. Joe shifts on the balls of his feet and turns to glance at Nicky, ostensibly for instruction but his eyes are molten.

Nicky walks the class through checking that the manoeuvre has actually worked and Joe slips free of the vest to pass it round to the students so everyone can have a go. They spend the next ten minutes or so seeing who can get the foam darts the furthest across the room.

Joe leans off to one side, joined by Nile when she’s finished and he’s busy on his phone. After a minute, Nicky’s phone buzzes and he slips it from his pocket as subtly as he’s able.

 **My heart:** Okay, you win. That was very mean and very teasing and to feel your arms around me, to feel you pressed against me, and then to lose that sensation….

 **My heart:** Don’t get changed when you come home tonight. I want you in your uniform before I fuck you, please.

Nicky drops his phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Celeste asks, retrieving it for him, the screen blessedly dark and secretive, “You’ve been off all day”

Nicky curses very inventively and thankfully internally in Italian “I, uh, yes. Just a bit flustered”

When he turns back around, Joe is leaning against the desk, arms folded, grinning from ear to ear. He’s the most beautiful being Nicky has ever seen and he has to resist the almost irresistible urge to just cross the room and offer himself to Joe, beg for those soft kisses that always leave him chasing more, to worship his lover’s skin.

_Fuck._

The session wraps up quickly without further incident, the game obviously over. Although Celeste keeps giving Nicky knowing glances all the while. The students do actually all pass the course, because when Nicky actually has a job to do, the world coming to an end wouldn’t ruffle his focus, _Joe._

Joe lingers until the last student is gone, as does Nile, ostensibly helping Celeste and Nicky clear up.

“I feel I should apologise, Celeste,” Joe says as he’s rolling up a stray length of gauze, “You’re clearly a bright young woman and Nicky speaks very highly of you”

Celeste regards him carefully, before turning her kohl-rimmed eyes on Nicky. Nile’s texting furiously.

“Oh, yes?” she asks, non-committal. Celeste has great respect for privacy but Nicky can see the curiosity burning in her eyes.

“Well, at least, I haven’t introduced myself properly. You see, I’m actually Nicky’s partner.”

“So am I. In a manner of speaking” Celeste says, but she’s smiling and Joe likes her very much, one arm unfurling to hold it out to Joe. “Nice to meet you properly, then, Joe. I wondered when you introduced yourself from the colour of Nicky’s cheeks. And then…” she waves a ringed hand at the room, “You two are not subtle.”

“Like, at all” Nile adds, giggling when Joe sticks his tongue out at her.

Celeste smiles like she’s trying not to laugh and when she speaks again, her voice is warm “But it is nice to meet you. Besides which, everyone passed the course all the same. And you make Nicky very happy.”

Joe turns to look at Nicky and finds him already looking at Joe, eyes shining like the pools Joe is always comparing them to. He nods, earnestly.

“And they’re off again. Celeste, d’you want a coffee or anything before you go?”

****

“I won” is the first thing Nicky says in an absolutely not petulant voice when he gets in the car when Joe picks him up from his apartment on the way home. It’s very cute. He leans across the central console and they kiss warmly, Nicky’s thumb grazing along Joe’s lower lip when they part. “Hello, by the way”

Joe’s heart is going to burst at Nicky and the hills he chooses to die on, he’s already smiling wide enough to crack his jaw, completely unrepentant at this sudden opportunity to tease and play. He kisses over Nicky’s thumb. “Mmmph, hi. I still think I did though”

“Prego, prego, prego” Nicky mutters, glaring at the dashboard

“Oh no, don’t worry” Joe croons, “I’ve been making bets with Andy and Booker for too long, my own sweetest heart. I’m sure you’ll get me next time” he consoles. Nicky harrumphs and pretends to be glaring out the window but he turns the heated seats up and when they arrive at the school gates to pick up Zara, he takes Joe’s offered hand automatically and rubs his thumb over the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

Joe winks at him and Nicky gives him that slim smile, then “Yusuf, I –“

“HI BABA! HI NICKY!”

“Hello, Treasure!” Joe greets, holding his arms as Zara comes rushing across the playground towards them, curls flying about her, enfolding herself around Joe’s middle, her folder thwacking him in the calf. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah!” She hugs Nicky in turn as he murmurs his own greeting and then reaches out to take Joe and Nicky’s hands. Since they can’t exactly shuffle in a circle to the car, the two men re-arrange so that Zara is in between them as they walk back down the block to where Joe had managed to find a parking space.

“We’re doing a project about the Mayans and I have Maths homework too.” She tells them, “And Louis found a caterpillar by the big oak tree and – wait” she stops and tugs at their hands, pulling towards a low red brick wall that lines their route.

“Okay, habibti, okay,” Joe immediately realises what she wants and leans down and lifts her, still holding onto Nicky’s hand, till she’s standing on the wall. She’s of a height to them now, almost. “Now hold on tight to Nicky” before he nods at Nicky, who shuffles closer so Zara can lean better on him for balance and the three of them carefully walk along, Zara still talking about her day.

“Did you have a nice day?”

“Well,” Joe mutters because a riled up Nicky is a very good and hot thing, holding her little hands firmly so she can jump safely off the edge of the wall, once she’s walked the length of it, “ _I_ did until Nicky bet I couldn’t do something”

True to form, Nicky’s eyes go sharp and promising murder and Joe’s libido does a little wiggle of anticipation.

“Oh, Baba can do anything,” Zara tells Nicky, confidently.

“Well I know but I just wanted to see if I could do it just as well, or maybe better” Nicky explained carefully

“Oh? What was it?”

They shoot each other a panicked look behind her back. That’s it. They have got to stop with the veiled teasing, they really have.

“Um - First Aid! Because that’s my job” Nicky manages quickly, spotting Joe’s silver car and hurrying his loved ones towards the vehicle.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Joe muttered as he opened the door to help Zara into the car.

“Couldn’t it be a draw?” Zara asks her father as he buckles her in.

Nicky just hands him a yellow post-it he’s conjured from those many pockets with I.O.U written on it in forest green sharpie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did actually have a bad dream about pumpkins and the Simpsons. It was weird.
> 
> A folder as Joe calls it is Zara's bookbag. It's part of the school uniform in England when you're that age and I realised that it might be specific to the UK but yeah, when I was in primary school, our bookbags were called folders.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nile and Booker do not end up on a date while Joe and Nicky make confessions (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going somewhere with this, I swear

It’s funny how some days…nothing’s wrong, really, except everything is. Everything in the universe seems to be three inches to the left and will be, no matter how hard you try to shove them back into place because there’s no visible reason for them not to be where they should be.

Nile Freeman is having such a day.

She got up at a reasonable time, she booted up her laptop, she read and everything made sense. The dominos for this particular section of her thesis had lined up and lead on one to another. The whole chapter’s a bit like a Rubix cube otherwise; she’s got all the pieces she just can’t make it fit together right. But, that’s a problem for at least… February. Maybe March. 

And there it is, the reminder that her world just isn’t going to make sense today

Why is she doing this again? Which, hey, she can actually ask the people who are meant to be her experienced mentors about this, so she opens the group chat.

 **Nile:** Why am I doing this thesis again?

 **Andy:** Because you have potential

 **Quynh:** In spades. And Joe does a better sales pitch as a supervisor than I do

 **Nile:** It was all LIES

 **Joe:** Hey!

 **Nile** : LIES I TELL YOU

 **Nicky** : What’s causing your doubt, Nile?

 **Joe** : Seriously, Nile, what’s up?

But she doesn’t even know what this is. She just feels a bit lost? Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Under-motivated definitely. She picked an obscure as fuck area to examine, which yes, _technically,_ means she is making a definite ‘original contribution to knowledge’ but it means she’s got the weirdest literature review she’s ever seen and she is quite literally, making this up as she goes. She’s just so…tired. Everything she writes recently, she can’t see one good thing in any of it, and the guilt when she’s not doing anything remotely related to her thesis is really starting to piss her off, frankly.

 **Nile** : IDK.

That’s honest at least.

 **Nile** : I think it’s because I’m such a hermit at the minute it’s making me crabby.

The genius of the accidental pun hits her after a second. She says as much.

 **Nile** : 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

 **Joe** : That was terrible. I’m so proud.

 **Booker** : I swear to God, Joe stop encouraging her, or I’ll disinherit you

 **Joe** : Don’t be such a guppy, Sebastien.

Nile actually laughs aloud at the reference, joy dislodging the irritation niggling in her chest at the distraction and quiet assurances.

 **Nile** : Yeah! Let’s start a hot crustacean band!

 **Quynh:** Ugh, I hate that song.

_Booker has left the chat_

_Andy has added Booker to the chat._

**Andy** _:_ Where d’you think you’re going Le Livre?

 **Joe:** Yeah! Stop trying to scuttle off.

Booker ends up typing for such a long time, Nile decides she’ll leave them to it and check the message in a bit. Buoyed up, Nile decides to chase the thread of light as far as it runs and takes the day off from studying. Joe – in that wonderful way he has - just pings her an invite for a supervisor’s meeting for later in the week so they can hash out where she’s not sure of. She decides, in the end, to go where the music happens, to remind herself why she loves doing what she’s doing. The peace and understanding she finds in immersing herself in art, the same way Nicky will take himself off to bookshops sometimes.

In the end, because it's central she decides on the National Gallery. She decides to meander a bit, so climbs through the portico up to the familiar walls of the Central Hall. She’s rolling her neck, eye half on Stubbs massive painting of Whistlejacket that she can see through the archways. She feels better already.

“Nile?”

She knows that voice has come to love that accent that makes her heart jump, her body shudder. She’s never gonna be able to go to France if this keeps up. Booker, when she turns around is smiling at her hesitantly, but his face relaxes when he sees it really is her.

“Hello, Cherie. What’re you doing here?”

She steps into his embrace easily, the gentle bear hug, the hand cradling her head, so familiar and beloved she aches. God **_damn_** him. Maybe she will have to ask Andy if she’s imagining that this mutual after all. That maybe he – nope, nope. Christ. How had Joe and Nicky _coped_?

“Oh, I wanted to soak it all in. What about you?” she nods her head at his hands where a bulky bag from the gallery gift shop hangs. Booker must’ve spotted her when he was coming out of the door just across from where they’re standing.

“Oh er, presents” Booker smiles at her, but rather than opening up the bag to show her, he pulls it closer to his own body, behind his legs, and looks so like his boys when they’ve been up to mischief that her heart twinges fondly. Hmm. Presents for who though? They’re well into January, Christmas has been and gone now. She’d followed it home to Chicago while the others stayed here. Booker had given her a beautiful coffee table book on the Louvre and a set of prints from Rodin’s house museum. He’d had the boys Christmas eve but she knows from photos that the others had all gone round to Joe’s house – which was really Joe and Nicky’s house by this point – for dinner on Christmas day. None of the others celebrated Christmas apart from Nicky, but because Nicky wasn’t going home to Genoa (because as he’d told Nile, Genoa isn’t home anymore), they’d just had a special family dinner instead. So not Christmas. Eid al-Fitr’s not till May and the closest birthday is Quynh’s.

She grins at his elusive behaviour but shrugs, “keep your secrets, then”

They stand for a minute; there’s such a potential for awkwardness in the space between one conversation and another in the sudden vastness of the gallery’s Main Hall. The rest of the world about to surge into the bubble-wrapped around them. But she knows it for what it is, each of them giving the other the opportunity for the out. _Wasn’t this funny. Okay well - I won’t keep you. Catch you soon then._

Nile shoves her hands in her jacket pockets, offers him a gentle smile. And – it’s a funny thing but she sees something flicker in his eyes, he doesn’t move for a moment just watches her. And then something seems to settle over him, but when he speaks his tone is tentative.

“Can I come round with you? Or- is this something you’d rather do on your own, just for yourself?”

Nile can’t help it; her eyebrows jump a little at the question but she grins. Booker’s something of a quiet gentleman really, in his heart of hearts. “I’d like the company, yeah”

She holds out a hand and Booker takes it. Fingers slipping over each, warm and weighted. They interlock fingers and then they’re off. They stop at all the usual suspects; Van Gogh’s sunflowers, the occasional Holbein, re-enact Skyfall in front of Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire’. There’s a bit of snag when they get to the Canaletto section, Nile snaps a couple of pictures for Nicky and then gets a text from Joe about how Nicky is now grumbling about the arctic temperatures of the murky North Sea. Booker just smiles and listens and makes the odd wry crack about the subject’s expressions or the oddness of the composition. And he’s still holding her hand, fingers tangled, all easy. The way it always is, with Booker, to slip into a different stride than she has with the others. It’s…measured. They – leave each other room to breathe, however, they might need to - on a given day.

“Nile?” Booker’s voice gently breaks into her thoughts where she stands, completely absorbed in van Eyck’s Arnolfini portrait. She turns to him, humming distractedly. “Feel free to tell me to bugger off but – what do you see, when you look at art?”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and Nile swings their joined hands, “What’s the pull for me, d’you mean?”

Booker’s head drops down, and there’s the swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand, his own lips quirking upwards.

“I guess, for me, it’s because it shows us how intertwined life is. How one life can touch another, even when you don’t know it because you’re standing right inside and can’t see it. Pick any painting and it tells you a story, right?” she waves enthusiastically at the rest of the room, with its religious retellings and similar portraits, most of the sitters’ eyes downcast.

“Right” Booker nods, even though those pale eyes flicker doubtfully over what, in fairness, looks to be the same story repeated in several frames.

“But then look here,” she points at the canvas, “Her hairstyle, the type of clothing they’re wearing, the style, the cut, the cloth. The food on the table. It tells you what they could afford, what was fashionable, the technology behind the furnishing, tells you everything about their status, the time they were living in. Or whether they loved each other, what kind of love it was. What the artist thought was important to preserve with the expense of canvas and paint. I love that” Nile smiles at the Ardolfini’s painted faces, at the hum of joy this brings, “that you can look at a picture telling one story and see loads more. There’s so much to see and it’s like a tapestry, woven of so many different threads. And I love that as much as the art itself, I guess. The way we tell stories, the way that art shows how much our lives are impacted by the world around us, and the way everything interacts with everything else, even right down to today. And – yeah” she stops and smiles at him again, wondering if she’s suddenly gone full Ph.D. mode and rambled on. She’d done that the last time she’d gone on a date – not that _this_ is a date, of course, or anything like it – only for Nina to blink in surprise when she’d stopped talking and give a half-smile and Nile had been left feeling a bit perplexed and so she wasn’t sure what counted as enough talking about it too much. She watches Booker’s face carefully, and a smile curls in the corner of his mouth, eyes warm. “I can see why you love it, and you make it easy, connecting. You’re going to be great for the field, Nile”

A pleased blush burns across Nile’s cheeks, “Thanks, Book.”

“S’ the truth, “he mutters, his voice suddenly gruff, “And thanks for letting me tag along. Uh, I was wondering, it must be near dinner time, do you want to get something to eat, and I could drop you home? Or do you want to stay a little longer? Either’s fine! I just – wondered if you fancied it?”

His head drops to their still joined hands, hair falling out of place into his eyes, but when he looks back up he looks young, open, and relaxed in a way she only catches glimpses of. More and more.

“I fancy it, yeah” _You. I fancy you, you obtuse –_ somewhere, Dizzy’s laughing at her.

They end up at a sushi place and Booker hadn’t let go of her hand all the way until they were moving to sit at the booth and Nile’s gonna kill him if he doesn’t explain himself soon, and her mom had been all: “Sebastien is a sweet man, baby. I can see the way he looks at you over Zoom and I’m not the only one. He’s a little old fashioned is all”. Which, yes. It’s rather – lovely, really. But is all this building towards something or is it gonna plateau? Has it already?

They’re about to tuck in, when Booker shoves the tray holding their orders to the side of the table, “Hang on a minute” he passes the National gallery bag across the table. Taking it from him, Nile extracts two gift-wrapped boxes. “I got the lady to wrap them and well, this one’s from all of us” he taps the larger one, “And that was just something small I thought you might like.”

“What?” Nile looks at the neatly wrapped boxes to Booker and back again, mind racing. It’s not her birthday for ages. Christmas has just gone.

“You were having a shitty day. It was Andy’s idea, and Quynh recommended this for you, said you’d showed them to her and well I volunteered, so” he spreads his hands to frame the parcels, pursing his lips.

“You guys – “Nile murmurs, fingers swiping over the dull gold wrapping paper. She has no idea what they could be, she shows Quynh things from the National Gallery’s shop all the time, lamenting the exorbitant cost. Carefully she runs a nail over one of the slits and prises the paper off. The larger gift is in a plain white box, heavy, and when she manages to fight her way into it –

“Oh my God! _You – “_ it’s a set of six teacups with saucers, each covered in one of Van Gogh’s paintings. She’s seen the price of them and lusted for them from afar. And they’d bought the teacups for her because she was having a shit day. Nile’s eyes grow a little hot as she traces a reverent finger over the one depicting Almond Blossoms. When she looks up, Booker’s phone is pointed at her, filming her reaction.

“They’re beautiful! I love you all so much, _you mad hatters_ ” Nile tells the camera, blinking furiously. Carefully setting the teacups aside, she reaches for the other, smaller box and opens it up as well. It’s lighter by a mile and brightly coloured and – “Oh, cool!”

It’s a comic book doodle style figurine of Leonardo da Vinci of all things, with a little easel and copy of the _Mona Lisa_ “He’s adorable – oh, and he glows in the dark!” she chortles, holding the box up to Booker, even though he probably knows, beaming at him.

“You like it?” Booker asks shyly, eyes careful.

“He’s _awesome._ I’m gonna stick him on my desk, by the light. They’re both so beautiful, I can’t believe – “she gets up and scurries around the table, throwing her arms around him. “You get the first hug.” She tells him, positively beaming into his shoulder. At first glance, you wouldn’t think Booker was much of a hugger. He hunches in on himself, and when they’d first known each other, while he’d been surprisingly easy to talk to, and kind, really, he didn’t seem tactile. Not the way the others were, like Joe scooping you off your feet, or Nicky enfolding you completely, or the way Quynh would just throw your arms clear and tackle you around the middle. Now she knows different, knows the way Booker will breathe out, shoulders dropping from around his ears, and lets himself be held in return. Booker cradles her, lets her slot herself where she’s comfortable, and holds her tenderly, chin hooked over her shoulder.

 _“I’m glad you like it, love”_ he whispers in French. And really, Nile can’t help the way she squeezes him, just for that.

_I might just love you, Sebastien Le Livre._

****

Having sent off the e-vite for Nile’s supervisor meeting, Joe clicks on the new email notification automatically.

From: viv.masterton@[redacted].co.uk

To: yusufalkaysani@achaemenid.ac.uk

Date: 28th January 2021, 5.45pm

Subject: Call for Papers

Hello!

Our Journal is now inviting proposals for papers for its Spring issue: ‘Since Time Immemorial: trading thoughts’. We are looking for papers exploring the exchanging of art, techniques, inspirations, and intercultural ideas through trade throughout history, with a particular focus on the Medieval and Renaissance periods.

Deadline for submission: 4th April 2021

_Oh, that’s cool._

Oh.

_Oh._

Copying and pasting the information in a blink, Joe’s fingers fly across his keyboard as he opens a new document, thoughts interconnecting almost faster than he can type them out. Hang structure, he’ll do that in a minute. Right _now,_ he wants to chase the thread of inspiration right into the labyrinth. His own doctoral thesis was on precisely this, for pity’s sake, he can’t ignore the chance to bring it up outside of the usual suspects.

After a few minutes, the thudding tap of the keys falls silent. It’s a mess of bullet points, so he tidies it up a little, so it’ll still make more sense when he comes back to it later. Then he flops back in his chair, hands coming to rest behind his head as he stretches, the inspiration quickening his blood already fading. That’s when Joe’s eyes fall on the framed photo on his desk, next to the jar of sticky notes from Nicky that he collects like so many neon coloured butterflies. It’s one of the first pictures of Joe and Zara. He’s sitting down cradling Zara, as a baby in his arms, sleeping of all things, tiny and tuckered out by the bigness of this new world. Booker had taken the photo before they’d slipped away to let the new parents rest.

_“Look what we did” Marina breathes out, grinning from ear to ear_

_“A little of both of us” Joe agrees and knows his expression matches hers._

_“If we don’t settle on a name soon, my Mum’s just going to start using one she likes and consider it official no matter what we say” Marina smirks tiredly, from where she’s watching, propped up on pillows in the bed, sipping at her water._

_Joe laughs, tearing his gaze away from their baby girl, whose here, she’s_ **here,** _to look up at Marina. He gently shifts the baby so he can brush his curls out of his eyes, then returns it, if only so those little fingers can wrap around his thumb, the tiniest nails scraping with surprising sharpness as she wriggles and stretches._

_“Who do you think she looks like then? A Charlotte? Luna? Noor?”_

_Marina grinned at him, “We can’t name her after your sister!”_

_“I was forced to promise I would suggest it, you’re my witness” He dandles the baby gently, peering down into her sweet face, “What name would you like, hmm? Little star?”_

_Marina reaches for them, and Joe gets up, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and pass the little bundle over. “Actually, what was that name I suggested… Zara! That means star, doesn’t it? In Arabic”_

_Joe shook his head slowly, “No, Zara, Z-A-R-A, means ‘princess’. Which she is,” he strokes a hand over the downy head, thoughtfully._

_A smile tugged across Marina’s lips, “Which is exactly what she is. Our beautiful little princess”_

_They smile at each other, the baby’s mouth opening in a wide yawn before settling._

_“Did we just agree on a name?” Marina asked, those green eyes bright. They both laugh, gently so as not to wake the baby, to wake Zara._

_“Hello, Zara” Marina crooned down at her, long dark hair tickling Zara’s cheeks. “Mama loves you. Baba loves you. You have the biggest family waiting to meet you. And one day maybe you will also have a Mummy to love Mama and teach you how to ride a bike because I can only teach you how to fall off and –“_

_“I can ride a bike!” Joe butts in, indignantly, but Marina just carries on, “and a Daddy to remind Baba to eat between his paintings and **not** almost drink the paint water because his coffee’s gone cold and he couldn’t tell the difference between the mugs”_

_“That was one – I am never telling you anything, ever again” Joe harrumphs, but he’s smiling widely anyway. Joe plays with one of those little fists, waving it gently, nearly bashing heads with Marina when he leans down to kiss their daughter’s head._

_“And they will love her as much as we do. I hope you’re right, you know. I hope she gets all that love. I hope we both do” He reaches out, and tangles their fingers together, Marina’s bright, quiet optimism. She squeezes his hand tight._

“Joe? Habibi?”

Joe jolts from the memory at the gentle knock on his studio door. Nicky is framed in the doorway, holding a mug in one hand. That typical barely-there smile slides off his face when he catches Joe’s eye.

“Joe?”

Wordlessly, Joe stands and steps clear of desk, arms wide. Warmth pulses comfortingly in his chest at the way Nicky sets the coffee down on the little table Joe has beside his easel – and Joe feels like he’s going to burst with love at the way Nicky puts the cup down. On the opposite side of the splattered paint water mug that has the words ‘WEAPON OF CHOICE’ with a paintbrush and palette crossed underneath – and walks straight into Joe’s arms.

Joe’s heart _soars._

“Is everything alright?” he murmurs into Joe’s cheek, hooking his arms under Joe’s as Joe rubs his back. Nicky was only downstairs cooking the dinner but Joe’s thoughts had carried him so far away, it feels much further. Nicky’s arms tighten around him, “Or did you just want – “

“Just needed a hug, hayati” the endearment slips out, pressed into the skin of Nicky’s throat, without thinking as Joe’s shoulders relax at last at the scent of Nicky wrapped about him, but he’s so in love, so at peace that he doesn’t have to hide anything from Nicky, that they slot together in so many different ways, that he doesn’t care. He’s called Nicky ‘habibi’ so much it is synonymous with his name, but had kept ‘hayati’ close to his chest, said it only quietly in the privacy of his own heart. Except, Nicky holds his heart so integrally, that Joe would swear it lives in Nicky’s chest.

It’s obvious from the way Nicky momentarily stiffens that he’s recognised the new term of endearment, but he doesn’t push. Because it’s _Nicky._ Joe squeezes him tighter, just a little, and Nicky’s own embrace shifts, pulling Joe closer still.

After another moment they pull apart, but only far enough to look each other in the eye. Nicky watches him carefully, clearly still concerned about Joe’s clearly upset but neither does he push again. Joe inclines his head and Nicky tilts forward to meet him, foreheads pressing together, in a silent check-in.

When they do actually release each other, Nicky’s hand trails softly over Joe’s ribs and comes up to catch at his cheek. “Time for a coffee break, si? You need a break from looking at that screen”

There it is. _Nicolò._

“Yes, darling,” he says dutifully, ducking forward to kiss Nicky’s mole, as Nicky folds their hands together even as he rolls his eyes at Joe’s tone and leads the way out of the room, retrieving the fresh coffee cup automatically.

He gets to drink his coffee and then Nicky takes it away from him, pressing at his shoulders and legs until Joe is propped up, lying on the sofa. “Relax. Please, habibi, just for twenty minutes”

It’s the only real thing they argue about, apart from the sculpture of the stallion on the fireplace that they keep turning one way or the other because Nicky insists it catches the light better turned to the left of all things – because while Nicky doesn’t interrupt Joe while he’s on a roll, he thumbs at the deepening lines under Joe’s eyes, the ones that aren’t from laughter, just as Joe worries over the darkened circles under Nicky’s own after he gets off shift.

To his surprise and delight, Nicky does not sit down and pull Joe’s feet into his lap but rather, carefully throws his leg over Joe’s knees so he’s straddling him and lightly crawls up Joe’s body until his head is tucked under Joe’s chin, draped over him so that he is effectively wearing a Nicky-blanket, his lover’s body carefully braced so that he isn’t weighing on Joe.

“Hello” Joe chuckles into Nicky’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head just because he can, hands pressing into the curve of Nicky’s waist, just the way he likes.

“ ‘lo” Nicky presses his cheek into Joe’s chest. Ear over his heart. God but Joe loves him. Even though he hasn’t said it. He needs to, he doesn’t think he can hold it in much longer. This time with Nicky, how much he’s come to be a part of their lives, Joe feels like it should scare him. If he was being objective, examining both sides of the coin from the outside in, the way he does when he writes a paper, he feels like he should be worried it’s too much, too fast, too soon. Worry about what it would do to them if Nicky changed his mind. If the precious love cradled in his palms cooled when the honeymoon period ends. Traitorously, Joe tries to imagine not having this warmth in his chest, to not feel this rush whenever he thinks of their relationship, and finds, with no small amount of satisfaction, that he simply…can’t.

 _You are everything I had hoped to find,_ Nicky’s voice reminds him, from that night at the restaurant, when they’d been subjected to the Dinner Double Cross, banishing the doubts before they can infect this moment. He cuddles Nicky closer, out of delighted spite.

“Beloved – not that I’m complaining but what are you doing?”

Nicky wiggles closer still, nosing into Joe’s shoulder, “Making sure you rest, my heart”

God, Joe loves him. He loves the width of Nicky’s unfailing kind heart. He loves the way he’s a terrible gambler, especially when he does it to get Andy and Booker to laugh. He loves how deliberate Nicky is. When they’d first known each other, Joe had made the mistake of thinking Nicky was shy and while he can be sweet and a little bashful when Joe heaps honeyed words on him, Nicky is not all that shy. He’s thoughtful in all things, careful, considerate, concise. He loves the way Nicky cooks enough to feed the five thousand, how it takes three tries just to pull him from his book, how he will pull things apart thematically. How he always stacks his and Joe’s empty plates and waits, unasked, with Joe while Zara slowly finishes her own meal, so she’s not left alone at the table.

Joe hums low in his throat, happy and sated in a way he only remembers as a ghost, getting comfortable. He can hear the timer for dinner ticking away through the door. “Bed rest with the sexy paramedic. At last. I was wondering when this would happen. Happy Birthday to me”

Nicky snorts, shifting to nose at the exposed skin of Joe’s collarbone. “Your birthday’s not till April, Yusuf”, he says, followed by something in Italian that gets caught in the collar of Joe’s shirt.

He jostles Nicky gently, strokes his fingers through the soft strands of hair where Nicky’s skull meets his neck, “Tesoro?” He loves kind Nicky, determined Nicolò, sleepy, pliant Nico.

He loves Nicky.

“Ti amo, Yusuf”

Joe’s entire body freezes.

Nicky, in turn, has suddenly gone statuesque where he’s draped over Joe. Who he loves. Nicky loves Joe too. Joe repeats it to himself, heart thrilling, praying that what he thinks he heard is what he actually heard. After all, Booker made much the same affirmation when Olympique de Marseille won at the football, as did Quynh when she would sit between his knees as he braided her hair or massaged her scalp. Joe winced internally, at Nicky’s wide eyes as he pulls himself up to look at Joe, but his own heart is bouncing up and down in his throat. Is that regret? Had he tempted fate, with his wondering?

“Yeah?” and it’s a rhetorical question, and he’ll let Nicky go, if he has to, if he’s not ready, given the way the words had obviously spilled out of him without his express permission. But he pleads silently to the universe, _don’t let this be like last time,_ when they had been ambushed, _don’t run from this._

But then Nicky smiles and a resolved expression, that is always much more typical, appears instead, his hands wrap further round, Joe, wedging between his back and the sofa “Very much, yes. Ti amo, Joe. I love you”

Joe relaxes immediately, presses his hands back into the dip of Nicky’s spine, a smile blooming fully now. The lantern of the moon against all the darkness. Nicky loves Joe. Nicky, ridiculous, earnest, beautiful Nicky. And it doesn’t set something on fire in Joe, not the way his past relationships have done, all the ones that had flared so bright and burned through faster than touch paper. No, it kindles that light in his chest, that lantern. Something like a well-banked fire. That same something that tells Joe not to say it back just yet. It’s not right, yet.

This was Nicky’s moment.

Joe’s moment will follow, soon. But he doesn’t want it to seem…reflexive. So instead, he reaches for Nicky, lets Nicky guide the way as his love slots himself along the lines of Joe’s body, back where he belongs. One hand at Nicky’s waist, the other cupping his jaw and holds him close. Presses kisses to Nicky’s forehead, both of his eyelids, cheeks, that gorgeous nose, and then that entrapping Cupid’s bow he just has to nibble, press his mouth to again and again until Nicky’s stealing breath. He doesn’t have the words just yet, so he kisses Nicky and lets that say it for him, the fire in his heart crackling merrily away.

“Hayati”

Nicky pulls away, with a breathless little laugh as Joe whines in protest, but Nicky merely hushes him, dipping back to kiss him firmly once, thumbs at the edge of his beard. “A moment, love, I just need your lips free long enough to tell me what that means? Hayati? You’ve never used it before, I don’t –“

“My life. It means ‘my life’” the words tumble out of Joe. He reaches up to stroke tenderly over Nicky’s cheekbone, lets that sink in.

“Oh,” Nicky breathes out, mouth gone slack. And then his face crumples happily, smiling so widely his dimples have tripled, “Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo” he murmurs, peppering kisses along the edge of Joe’s beard, his throat, that freckle on his earlobe Joe knows he loves to kiss. Sipping at his lips and his hands are slipping under Joe’s shirt, splaying greedy over his abs, up to Joe’s pecs and Zara’s playing upstairs in her room, and the dinner’s in the oven and Nicky’s wearing his uniform still and doesn’t _that_ remind Joe of the last time they’d been in this position, of course, that had been reversed, Nicky under him, quivering deliciously –

“I thought you wanted me to rest” he teases only for Nicky to chuckle darkly in a way that goes straight to Joe’s dick.

“I said you needed to _relax_ , hayati”, Nicky positively purred, pressing a kiss to Joe through the cloth even as his fingers stroke upwards underneath where he’s rucked up the shirt, over Joe’s pectoral, thumb brushing at his nipple.

Oho, Nicky’s playing dirty.

“Nico –“ he whines, tugging Nicky upwards and they kiss deeply until it gentles, and Joe feels a surge of renewed affection because he knows that it’s because Nicky knows they can’t get carried away right now. Zara’s upstairs and it’s only early evening and they’re on the sofa and – he pushes his head back into the cushion, arches into Nicky, who’s still touching him; clever fingers tracing over his pecs, his ribs, making his body start to sing.

_Ding!_

Stupid timer.

“ _No,_ habibi, ya amar, hayati, _babe_ ” even as his arms slip from Nicky’s body to let him up and he flings an arm over his eyes dramatically. He leans upwards, seeking the vestiges of touch. Nicky chuckles and leans over, kissing the pout right off Joe’s lips firmly, before withdrawing entirely and he’s dragging himself off Joe’s body like that on purpose, pulling Joe’s shirt back down as he goes, the gorgeous little _shit._

“I’m just going to check how the ziti’s doing and then I will be all yours, hayati. Stay, exactly as you are, per favore”

“I hate to watch you leave, but oh, how I love to watch you go” Joe sighs even as his heart thrums at the way Nicky returns the endearment, throwing his arms behind his head as he curbs the desire curling through him.

Nicky snorts with laughter as he disappears through the kitchen doorway. “I cannot believe you just said that”

“It’s true!” Joe calls after him. _Well, it is_ , he thinks to himself, as he watches the sway of Nicky’s hips. Nicky’s ass truly is perfect.

When the clanging and disgruntled Italian muttering make it apparent that Nicky will be a while, Joe decides to actually focus on his article. He’s composing the basic structure of the main points on trade routes when he realises he really ought to be writing this down. Snagging the pen and set of post-its Nicky leaves on the coffee table, Joe starts scribbling down, ripping the pieces of paper off and sticking them along his thighs to keep them in order.

“I thought you were supposed to be relaxing” he finishes his sentence before he looks up to see Nicky, eyes narrowed, watching him from the doorway.

“Yes, but, can I read this out to you, to see if it makes sense?” Joe straightens up, voice plain.

Nicky immediately drops the act, and nods, “Of course, tesoro. What is it?”

Joe reaches for him again as Nicky returns towards the sofa, pleased at how this time Nicky slips in behind him to cradle Joe against his chest and just hold him, the previous heat between them cooled to a candle. Constant and warming. He presses a kiss to the inside of Nicky’s wrist and gets one to the back of his head in return. They sit like that as Joe works through the article, Nicky humming in interest or asking a question until the second timer goes off.

“ZARA! C’mon little hurricane, time for dinner”

Then there are the dishes that Joe washes and Nicky insists he dry, worryingly confusing homework to complete, with Joe and Nicky debating how to answer a poorly worded question about the Mayans while Zara asks so many questions that ends in Joe buying a book on Mayan history online, and really Joe doesn’t want to fold the laundry but he won’t have any socks otherwise and he doesn’t mind as much when there are Nicky’s clothes jumbled in with his.

They’re curled up in bed, Joe’s chest yet again serving as Nicky’s personal pillow, Nicky tracing the lines of Joe’s palm, “Have you any plans tomorrow?” he asks, voice gently interested. Prodding.

“Nothing – concrete, no” Joe tamps down on a smile at Nicky’s directness, “Why?”

“I wondered if we might do something”

“Name it and it is yours, hayati”

One of these days his poetic soul’s going to get him into trouble. But Nicky props himself up on his elbows again, smile softening, as he cups Joe’s cheek, dropping a kiss to his lips, so today is not that day “I’ll take you out tomorrow, then. On a date.”

 _Oh._ Joe’s heart flutters. He presses their mouths together to keep from saying it, putting it into the kiss what he can’t yet put into words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may have been me living vicariously through Nile, struggling with my thesis and lusting after the pretty things on the National Gallery shop and realise that we're 11 chapters in and nobody's confessed their love to anybody yet. 
> 
> Nile's presents are these: 
> 
> Cups (which hottopicmonk tagged as art! Nile and I whole heartedly agree):  
> https://www.amazon.co.uk/Vincent-China-Saucer-Terrace-Coffee/dp/B074L2M7PT
> 
> Leonardo Da Vinci figure:  
> https://www.nationalgallery.co.uk/products/leonardo-da-vinci-figurine/p_1049152
> 
> I always love hearing from you, either here or on tumblr @meet-the-girl-who-can :)

**Author's Note:**

> So Nicky jumping into the ambulance is genuinely just because when everyone piles in the car at the end of the movie, Luca like dives in very lithely and like nothing this cast does is not sexy?
> 
> Title and Joe's line 'Not till God make men of some other metal than earth' is from Much ado about nothing
> 
> Translations!  
> habibti - female form of the endearment 'habibi', meaning my love
> 
> My tumblr url is @meet-the-girl-who-can if you want to come say hi!


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